Thunderstorms
by Romantic Nerd
Summary: Thunderstorms come sweeping though one's life from time to time. William and Julia must cope with a series of crises that threaten everything. They will need to solve multiple crimes and save their own necks under highly stressful situations. Fortunately they are incredibly strong when they work together.
1. Chapter 1

_**Thunderstorms come sweeping though one's life from time to time. They can wreak havoc. A single lightning bolt packs quite a punch – heating the air to temperatures higher than the Sun. Those that stand up the tallest are most likely to get struck. Even standing near tall things is dangerous. One must cope when caught in a storm – know where to hide, when to run, etc. Sometimes it's best to just sit it out if you are somewhere safe. And if lightning strikes, offer the electricity a path to steer through your body that avoids vital organs.**_

 _ **The worst series of thunderstorms William and Julia ever dealt with were in 1913. This is the tale of that time.**_

 **One year earlier (1912)**

William stood and watched as Julia hugged their three children good-bye for the fourth time. He did not have it in his heart to rush her, they had very rarely gone away for more than a day, and he knew Julia was worried about it. The carriage driver huffed and sighed once more, pushing William to encourage her to come along. He loaded up their bags and waited. Julia thanked their nanny, Clair-Marie and their maid and cook, Eloise, once more and took William's hand to step up into the carriage. He sat next to her, waved, and closed the carriage door. Without even turning to look, he knew his wife was crying. "They will be fine, Julia," he said tenderly as he put his arm around her and pulled her close. She nodded and took a deep breath, trying to stop her tears.

They had received a notice informing them that Caroline Hill had passed away and that she had left the lake-house to Julia and Ruby. William and Julia had discussed it at length, and had decided they wanted to keep the lake-house as a place to take the children on vacations and holidays. However, phone conversations with Ruby indicated she wanted to sell it. They were meeting her there to talk about it and sign papers with the lawyers. Looking forward to spending some time together without the children, they had decided to make a long weekend out of the trip.

The carriage ride was nearly two hours long. They spent the first part of it each in quiet contemplation. Eventually, William reached down to lift Julia's chin and kiss her. The kiss held promise, married for nearly ten years now, the passion between them had never waned. Their romantic gestures elevated and at some point it became obvious to both of them that Julia's hair would end up a mess. When William finally broke off a kiss and pulled back enough to cease their lustful antics he said, "I am very much looking forward to having you to myself for a few days– well except for Ruby, but at least she is an adult."

Julia made an effort to correct her appearance, straightened her dress, fussed with her hair, and replied, "I think you will see she is not as adult-like as you expect," looking him in the eye with a playful smile. "She is Ruby after all," she added.

He smiled and nodded in understanding. "Do you think we will be able to convince her not to sell – especially when she learns we won't be able to buy her half of the house?" William asked.

Julia wrapped her arm in his and said, "I think so … She doesn't seem to really need the money right now, and she loves the lake-house too. She will understand our desire to keep it as a family tradition." She slid up into William's lap and seductively kissed his neck, then paused to place her lips over his ear and said, "Besides William, Ruby has always had a little soft spot for you."

"Do I detect an air of jealousy?" he teased.

She replied, "William, you are quite aware of our sibling rivalry!"

Well I'm not sure I want to be some sort of toy that the two of you argue over," he explained, the smile on his face betraying that he was enjoying their exchange.

She reached her arms around him and gave him a squeeze, "William Murdoch, don't you ever forget whose "toy" you are," and covered his mouth to take a deep kiss, setting off their romantic endeavors once more.

Once they arrived, William put their bags down by the door next to Ruby's. She was nowhere in sight. Julia called out for her and she rushed down from upstairs to give them each a hug and say hello. They made sleeping arrangements – William and Julia in their parent's bedroom on the first floor and Ruby in her old room upstairs. William took the bags to the appropriate rooms.

In their parent's bedroom, which William had already come to think of as Julia's father's (Lionel) and Caroline Hill's bedroom, he paused to remember the last time he had been here (Story: It's Good to Have a Plan). Julia's father had died and she was suspicious about his death. It had turned out that Miss Hill had been a lifetime love of his. She had only been able to enjoy a few months with her love before he became extremely ill. At Julia's father's urging, Miss Hill had killed him to spare them impending suffering. William had always seen parallels between their story and his and Julia's. It had led to him proposing, for the final time, here while he and Julia were standing on the shore of the lake. They had spent the night, become much more closely intimate than they ever had before that. He chuckled to himself about how the paths one takes in their lives all seem to make sense sometimes – in this case how his experiences with Ettie, and with receiving the Chinese book, Ishinpō, had helped him become a better lover. It was that night – or rather the next morning – that he became convinced, and likely Julia too, that they would enjoy a wonderful love-life together, and that they wanted to marry quickly.

He found himself staring at the bed. He sighed contentedly and turned to leave. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a large envelope on the dresser. He read the name on the front, "Detective William Murdoch," in what he recognized as Caroline Hill's handwriting. He found it very curious – that she would leave it for him, and that she would know he would find it in this room. He opened it. It contained many of the photos and letters he had seen when he was investigating her in suspicion of murdering Julia's father. There were even more newspaper clippings and other papers related to Julia and himself. He unfolded the letter and read it.

It told of the thoughts, impressions, and wishes of Julia's father related to him. Dr. Ogden had known of William's courting of Julia much earlier than he or Julia had thought – at least a year before she left for Buffalo. As Julia would have suspected, he was not pleased, and for the reasons expected – William's low station. Dr. Ogden never really liked Julia's choice to work as a pathologist, and he was even more disappointed in his daughter's choice to become romantically involved with a Catholic detective – from a poor, broken family. However, he was somewhat enchanted by William's being raised by Jesuit priests, as they held very high academic standards. Miss Hill had written, "You must know, though, William, that despite all of his displeasure, he held the belief that Julia and you shared a love much like his and mine. That is until Julia decided to leave her position at the morgue, and you, to go to Buffalo. At that point he had figured it was not true love after all – and he was both greatly relieved, and yet saddened by the thought that Julia would never know such a love." William sighed and continued.

The letter went on to tell that Dr. Ogden was pleased with Julia's choice of position in Buffalo, and he was overjoyed with her decision to become engaged to Darcy Garland. She wrote, "That is until he met him, and saw Julia and Dr. Garland together. He didn't think the man had what it would take to make Julia happy." William couldn't help but smile. He thought, " _I wonder if he ever came to see that I did?_ " Miss Hill explained that Dr. Ogden had been furious with William for his part in risking Julia's life when Gillies had abducted her and buried her alive. His fatherly drive to protect his daughter had been triggered. "But, William, it was then that he came to suspect that you and Julia did have the same kind of love that we had shared – an eternal love. He was so saddened to know that his daughter had chosen the same path he had – the path of convention over true love, having married Dr. Garland. I swear it nearly broke his heart," her words told.

Dr. Ogden never believed Julia had killed her husband. He had a friend who brought him transcripts form the trial. "He cried many tears reading them," she said, "At one point Lionel said to me that he could only hold out hope that Julia's faith in you was warranted, and that you would save her from the noose. William, a friend of Chief Inspector Giles put him in touch with Giles. Giles told him about the trap set for you, about the tape Gillies had made, and the choices you made to procure it. He would want you to know, William, that you had his blessing – that he wished nothing more for Julia than for her to marry and live the rest of her life with you." William dropped down onto the bed as he read this last part. He regretted never having met the man. He put the contents back in the large envelope and left it on the dresser to share with Julia later.

In the kitchen, Julia and Ruby talked excitedly while they prepared lunch. There was a maid, Judith, who came by each day and had stocked the cupboards and ice box with food for their stay.

Ruby entwined her arm with her sisters and eagerly said, "William is still as handsome as ever Jules. Are you two still enjoying as much passion … in the bedroom, as you used to?"

Julia rolled her eyes and scolded, "Really Ruby, you are insufferable!"

"Oh come on Jules, who else besides your sister would you share such things with?" she goaded. Julia sighed, but her facial expression betrayed her thoughts. A huge smile grew on Ruby's face and she squeezed Julia with delight. This, of course, told Julia that Ruby had read her thoughts and knew how pleased she was with her love-life. "Oh my, you must tell," Ruby declared.

Julia held her sister's eye, but dropped her chin. She felt uncomfortable telling, but also so wanted to share about their happiness, their amazing happiness. "Ruby, I did not think it possible to have children and still have an … astonishingly pleasing…" Julia lowered her voice and whispered the next part, "… sex life. It is truly wonderful. We still make love nearly every day, and it is … quite, well, satisfying doesn't do it justice… I swear the word that comes to mind is 'ecstatic.' William is ..," she paused looking for a word that would not embarrass her but accurately depict what it was he was so good at.

Ruby remembered Julia telling her about their fantastic lovemaking many years ago (Story: Kiss & Tell). She finished Julia's sentence for her, "… skilled," Ruby said.

Julia nodded and turned red and said, "He really, really is."

Julia was glad that they had moved on to a different topic by the time William joined them in the kitchen. However, her relief was short-lived because Ruby quickly said, "So William, I'm very thrilled to hear that you are still keeping my sister magnificently pleased in the bedroom."

Julia gasped.

William started to say something, but thought better of it. He turned to look at his wife and raised his eyebrow at her. Julia blushed crimson. All three of them burst into laughter.

Julia shook her head 'no,' still in disbelief as she looked at Ruby.

Ruby took a deep breath and said, "Well, it's important to me to know that my sister is happy …" She turned to look at William and added, tilting her head and eyeing him seductively, "Not that I ever doubted your abilities William."

William dropped his eyes and shook his head 'no' as well. He chuckled, looked back up at Ruby and said, raising an eyebrow at her, "No?"

Sitting up straighter to demonstrate her confidence, Ruby replied, "No."

Julia did not like the way this was going. She cleared her throat, "A-hem."

William and Ruby turned to look at her. Ruby said, "Oh Jules, don't get jealous … You know I've always found William attractive… I see no reason not to tell him so."

Now William was blushing crimson. He tried to speak, but his voice was too dry at first. He cleared his throat and said he was going to take a quick walk down to the lake.

After he left, Julia gave Ruby a dirty look, but she couldn't hold it long and quickly burst out into laughter. The sisters hugged, both still laughing. Ruby said, "Go join him, I'll finish up and call you two back in a few minutes."

They stood where they had proposed to each other on the shore of the lake a decade ago. Julia snuggled up to him and said, "Well, you said you were looking forward to some adult company…"

He laughed and rolled his eyes. He sighed and said, "What I said I was looking forward to was time with you without the distractions of the children. Clearly, there are going to be some distractions here as well." Julia giggled and nodded her head. Continuing, William said, "But I do love Ruby. She's wonderful."

Julia turned him to face her and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Me too," she said, "But she can be quite … challenging to have around."

"True," he said as he placed his hands on her hips. He slid a hand around to press against the small of her back and pulled her tightly to him. She arched, leaning back to be better able to see his face. Their eyes were locked together for a moment before he said, "Magnificent in the bedroom?" questioning her with a raised eyebrow.

Julia laughed and then said, "Yes," she tilted her head and leaned in to kiss him. Only a millimeter from his lips she said, "Magnificent." They shared a tender, deep kiss. Her fingers scratched across his scalp, her thumb caressed the back of his ear. As kisses go, this one was magnificent.

Over lunch they talked enthusiastically. They also made plans to go out to a restaurant for dinner after the lawyers came by and they had signed the papers. The topic of Ruby's love-life came up. William really wanted to ask her about what had happened between her and his half-brother Jasper (Story: Power Struggles) but didn't work up the courage to do so. " _Maybe later_ ," he thought. He held out some hope for Jasper as it turned out that Ruby was not involved with any one at the moment.

Ruby commented, "You know, even Daddy didn't wear a suit here. Did you bring any more … casual clothes William?"

Julia answered before William could, "It was a battle, but yes, he does have less formal attire packed," she explained with a chuckle.

William felt a need to defend himself, "I thought it best to meet with the lawyers dressed this way. You don't agree?" he asked Ruby. (He already knew Julia had agreed with his decision in this respect – or at least had tolerated it).

"Yes," Ruby answered, "You look very … legal." Both Julia and Ruby chuckled.

"Good," he said.

In the restaurant over dinner William told them about the envelope Caroline Hill had left for him. He explained that it was her sharing their father's thoughts about him and his relationship with Julia. William looked at Julia, wrinkled up his face and said, "It turns out he knew we were courting from very early on – the Dinosaur Ball I think."

Julia added, "Yes, there were probably people who knew him there. What did it say?"

William put his fork down and lifted his water glass, "Well…" He took a sip, "…As you would have figured he was quite unhappy with your choice because of my … family history, religion, and … unseemly occupation. Generally my coming from a lower class …" William looked at Ruby and thought, " _I wonder if she knows about the lifelong love between her father and Caroline Hill?_ "

"Um, what do you think of Caroline Hill, Ruby?" he asked.

Ruby shifted in her chair, "I'm glad father had someone to love him and care for him after mother died," she said, looking at Julia. She continued, "Daddy wrote me that he loved her and she made him happy. That was good enough for me."

Julia asked, "Did he tell you how long he had known her?"

"No. I just assumed it was recently," she answered.

Both William and Julia pushed back a little from the table, took deep breaths and looked at each other. Ruby knew something important was coming. They told her about Caroline Hill and their father being in love _before_ he married their mother. And that they had been in love all those years – without having an affair. Ruby agreed that it was sad that their father could never have loved their mother as much as they had always thought he had, and also that it was sad that their father was only able to be with the love of his life for a few months.

Eventually Julia asked, "William, what did Caroline Hill's and father's relationship have to do with father's opinion of you?"

William paused, held strongly to Julia's eyes, and told her, "He thought our love was like their love – He believed you had made a similar choice to his by marrying Darcy. In the end, he knew we were back together and that you would be happy with me."

Tears welled up in Julia's eyes. "Oh," she said and looked down at her plate. She started to cry harder and William moved his chair closer to hers and took her in his arms. He looked at Ruby and Ruby moved her chair over too and lovingly rubbed Julia's back. "He really did love me," Julia said, the sound muffled as it emanated from her mouth buried in William's chest.

"Yes, he did," Ruby said, "He always did."

Julia quickly dried her eyes and they finished eating.

During the carriage ride back to the lake-house, Ruby told them she had found a similar letter in her room. William suggested they look in Julia's old room to see if Caroline Hill left her a letter there.

Once back, Julia and William called their children, wanting to check in with them before they went to bed. William Jr. (7 yrs.) complained to his father about having to go to the Club tomorrow to watch his younger sister, Katie (6 yrs.) take a horseback riding lesson. William reminded him that Katie and Chelsea went to watch his swimming lessons sometimes, and that Chelsea would be going along as well, even though she was not having a riding lesson. He said he expected his son to support his sisters as he expected them to support him. William Jr. said he understood. Everybody wished everybody else a good-night and made sure to tell them they loved them too.

After the call, all three of them went up to Julia's room to see if there was a letter for her. There was. Julia said she wanted to read it privately later. They sat in the living room talking for a while before they went to bed. William thanked Ruby for their annual Club membership, which she paid for each year as a Christmas gift. He stressed that their children encountered opportunities there that were very special. Eventually Julia asked Ruby if she would be willing to either, hold on to the lake-house so that they could bring the children here and have family gatherings here as was their family tradition, or until she and William could afford to buy Ruby's half from her – although she did not see them having such excess money soon. Ruby gladly agreed to hold on to the lake-house.

Interestingly, Ruby asked William if he thought Jasper might join them for some of these family gatherings. He said he certainly thought so, especially if Jasper knew she would be joining them. Ruby had sighed and seemed to think of Jasper with some sadness and regret. Both William and Julia had decided to wait to see if Ruby wanted to talk about it. She said no more, and so they let it go. Julia figured she'd find out more some time when she was alone with Ruby.

In their bedroom, William spotted Julia staring at her letter. He asked her if she wanted to read it now. She said she would read it tomorrow – it was likely to be emotional and she wanted to focus on being happy with him right now. They prepared and dressed for bed. While Julia sat at the vanity brushing her hair, William lit some candles and turned out the lights. Love was definitely in the air. He came next to where she was sitting to rest his buttocks against the edge of the vanity and talk with his wife, clearly enjoying the sight of her brushing her curls. Julia said, keeping her eyes in the mirror, "I have always loved it when you sit like that, at your office or in the morgue – There's something more casual and intimate about it… I remember the first time I consciously noticed I felt this way. We were in the morgue and I was mad at you for not standing with me against the Inspector about women's abilities…"

"Mmm, I remember. I believe I had been particularly winsome with my logic," William continued to tell the story with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Julia caught the look out of the corner of her eye, felt her insides stir in reaction to it. She paused and said, "I am thinking about putting a little bit more red back into my hair. What do you think? It would be more my natural color…"

William leaned closer to her and teased, "I thought your natural color was grey."

Julia tapped his thigh with the hairbrush, feigning shock and anger, "William!" Then she shook her head and added, "You should talk – There are quite a few sprinkles of grey in your hair too."

He nodded, "True," he admitted.

He offered her a hand, lifting her to her feet, and stood to take her in his arms. "More red would be beautiful… Of course the blond is lovely too," he said quietly as he took some of her locks into his fingers and played with them appreciatively. Sliding the curls out of his way, he tilted his head, leaned in, and kissed her ear, then moved on to entice her by nibbling at her neck, her most vulnerable aspect.

Surprisingly quickly Julia felt desires stir in her core. The scent of him filled her nostrils, seeming to daze her. She slipped her arms around his waist and rewarded his attention with a yielding moan that drifted across his ear, sinking into his brain. He inhaled deeply, taking in her smell and then took her ear lobe in his mouth to suck and kneed it with his tongue, then scrape it tenderly with his teeth. "William ..," she sighed.

"Mmm?" he replied. No answer came. Her mind was already swimming too much to reply. His mouth continued across her chin, up to her lips. The kiss was malleable and firm, provoking another luscious moan from Julia. William felt his urge growing rapidly – too rapidly, and he broke off the kiss. He stepped back to see her face. It melted him. " _Oh, she's gorgeous_ ," he thought. He was breathless. " _Breathe, look away_ ," he told himself, hoping to regain control. He did so, stepping back farther and dropping his head down to the floor for a moment, he took a deep breath. One of their suitcases was within his view and he remembered putting Ruby's suitcase in her room directly above the one they were in. He took another deep breath and said, "Do you think Ruby will be able to hear us? Her room is right above us."

Julia was recovering her wits now that the kissing had stopped, and she made an effort to pull herself out of her hazy state to answer him. "Umm, knowing Ruby, she's probably got her ear pressed up against the door right now," she said with a giggle as she turned to walk over to the bed. She caught his eye, now from across the bed, and added, "Back when we were just children here, she told me she could hear our parents … She said the headboard banged against the wall, that's how she would know when they, umm …"

"Oh," William replied as he turned to see the headboard. "Perhaps we should pull it away from the wall?" he asked.

"We can try it," she replied, reaching down to grasp her side of the headboard and bedframe. They each pushed from their end and moved the bed about an inch further from the wall.

William sat down on the bed while Julia climbed in the other side and rolled over to lie behind him. She reached over and rubbed her hand up and down his thigh. She reminded him that he sat right in that same spot – she in this same spot – right after they had almost made love for the first time (Story: It's Good to Have a Plan). "It was much closer than the picnic in the park with the absinthe, hmm?" she asked.

William's mouth curved into a smile at the memory. He shook his head and said, "Yes," he turned to look at her, "I had never in my life felt something as powerful as that was Julia. To tell you the truth, I'm still surprised that I stopped, that I was able to … stop."

She sat up next to him, her legs still behind him. She took his face in her hands, stroked his hair, and said, "Well, William you are really, and always have been, the master of self-control. And now I know you had studied Taoist methods and ideology of lovemaking…" she giggled. Her voice took on a seductive tone, "It was just the beginning of ' _ **magnificent**_ ,'" she said and she kissed him. She broke off the kiss and shifted to sit in his lap facing him, straddling him. As she unbuttoned his pajama top she said, "But what was really amazing was the next morning, waking up next to you for the first time ever, and feeling you so aroused and touching me." Julia's insides began to tighten just thinking about it. "You said you had forgotten about **Plan C** … Oh, William, Plan C was wonderful. Because of it I knew we … you were definitely going to make me very happy." After she had slid his top off she admiringly rubbed, stroked, scratched, and kissed his chest, the muscles of his shoulders. She pushed him down onto the bed and kissed slowly and evocatively down his body. His head began to spin when she pulled the drawstring of his pajama bottoms and kneeled on the floor in front of him, between his knees. She pulled his pants off. He was already quite erect.

" _Oh my god_ ," he thought. He moaned, a low, demanding moan, when she took him in her hand and placed her mouth over the top of him. She so loved it when he made that sound. With her attentions, William felt himself growing euphoric with lust and desire. He wanted her. He was not satisfied with her mouth – he wanted to be inside of her. He lifted her head off of him. They shared a deep, mesmerizing look. Love sparks filled the room. He lifted her nightgown over her head, stopping before the garment had slid off of her wrists to trap her arms up in the air. She could see his urge as he took in the sight of her. He took a deep breath and said, "You are so stunningly beautiful," as he removed the gown and dropped it to the floor. He guided her up onto the bed with him. They moved to lie together in the center of the bed. "I'm going to have my way with you, Julia," he warned.

Now it was Julia's brain that swam and floated, seeming to mix all of the colors of the room. Her breathing became rapid – each exhale blasting out of her. He knew this breathing –she was desperate with need for him. "Oh William," she pleaded, "Please do ..," She gasped as his fingers traveled down her body to find her slippery, warm entrance. "Oh, have your way with me." Her back arched, pressing her belly tight against him. He rolled over, his shadow stealing away the candlelight, his body sinking down into hers, taking her breath away. "Oh my god, I want you," she cried as she dug her fingernails into his back and pulled him down harder against her. He kissed her so very softly and tenderly at first, but her moan lit a flame inside of him and the kiss became deep, rushed and rough. She felt the air rush out of his nose followed by a hungry breath to restock his oxygen. The moment he released her mouth and dove on her neck to cover it with his mouth, she cried out again, "William, Oh …" as her hips began to thrust against his, "Please, William."

He shifted to lower himself and line up his entry into her. Her breathing was extremely rapid. She caught his eye – " _Beautiful_ ," he thought. Her look pulled him over the edge of control. Like a magnet that had gotten too close to metal, the force between them demanded motion, necessitated connection. He surged into her, evoking her to release another strong moan of delight twisted with need. "Shh," he urged, remembering that Ruby could probably hear. The moment he began to thrust into her, the sound of the headboard thumping against the wall could be heard. He halted.

Julia whispered in his ear, "She's going to hear no matter what – Please don't stop William," and she clenched her teeth into his neck and sucked against his skin, as if she could suck him deeper inside of her this way. She began to move her hips to match a rhythm she had become so familiar with over the years – a rhythm that called his deepest core to join her. "Oh William, please!" she demanded.

He pushed deeper inside of her, feeling the tip of their connection tighten. He resumed thrusting, immediately regaining the compelling rhythm. He found that the harder he surged into her, the louder the sound of the headboard would pound. Captivated by the power, he drove to increase its volume. The thumping grew both louder and quicker. Julia's moans joined in and he felt himself lose control – his focus honed in on the place where he was deepest inside of her, closest to her center.

Julia's excitement rushed to twist, coil, and wind her womb into a delicious and excruciatingly tight knot. She felt William rushing towards completion and told herself, " _Hurry! Oh please, hurry!_ " The wave of pleasure began to flow in from her outermost edges, the ripples seeming to intensify in frequency and strength as they moved closer to her deepest core – centering on the perfect spot where William touched her very being. "Yes! Oh my god, yes!" she cried out.

Repeatedly feeling her warm, velvety, slick resistance yield as he drove forward, and hearing the headboard's bang, followed by her body's hugging and pulling back against him as he slid back, only to press forward into her depths again, drove him absolutely wild. With everything he had, he erupted, a deluge of warm ecstasy inundating him.

It was low, secretive, near her ear, but Julia was overjoyed to hear William's moan coinciding with the slowing and deepening of the spellbinding motion.

Stillness sunk around them. The pounding of the sound of their breath heaving across their ears and the thumping of their hearts within their chests, filled the void created by the absence of the banging of the headboard. Both weak, spent and drunk with pleasure, they lay together, limp and spinning. Both enjoyed the dizzy swirl as the room around them gradually grew present in their awareness. As soon as he was able, William swept across Julia's face with soft butterfly kisses. "Oh, I love you so," he said, still breathless and dry. He chuckled and said, "Julia Ogden, will you marry me?"

She squeezed him, pulling his loose body down into hers, she replied, "A thousand times, I would."

Ruby had heard. She sat in the dimly lit living-room in the reclining chair, the seat closest to their bedroom door, indulging in one final glass of wine. She was beyond pleased… as well as, truth be told, a little jealous.

Just before dawn the next morning a thunderstorm moved in across the lake. Julia had been awakened by the thunder, rumbling low and long, still being originated from afar. She had gotten up out of bed to stand and watch out of the large bedroom window as it rolled towards them. She knew she would wake William soon, he so loved being safe inside, listening to a storm rage on outside. Often they made love cocooned securely away from the danger and yet enticed and inspired by the storm's electrifying energy.

The distance still sufficiently far enough to detach the timing of the flash of bright light from the sound of the thunder, William stirred. Julia turned her head to catch sight of him lift up onto his elbow and look at her across the dark room. Light flickered into the room, revealing her naked body to him. Immediately his desire was roused.

The moment felt precious, temporary – the meaning of it all intensely focused onto the here and the now. Each of them filled with an awareness of being awake – alive. William slid out from under the covers as the boom of the thunder bolted through the room. He came to stand behind her, smoothly sliding his bare skin across hers before blanketing her in his arms. His masculine lust pressed against her, stealing her breath. She gasped and instantly felt a twirling dizziness encompass her brain, a wrenching tightness grip her deep inside.

"It's getting close, we'll have to hurry," his low, lusty voice whispered in the dark. Julia felt the floor drop down away from her. She became heavier in his arms. He gathered her long, lawless hair together and twisted it to expose the skin of her neck and shoulders. His mouth warmed and pulled against her neck. Julia moaned in response. She turned to face him. Another lightning flash, quickly followed by a thunderous bang, rushed them into a deep kiss. Hurriedly she wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around his hips. They broke off the kiss. With Julia reaching down to capture his ear lobe and torment it with her tongue and teeth, he carried her over to the vanity, pulled the chair out to place it to the side, and lowered her buttocks down onto the cold, hard wood. He reached down and opened a drawer. He pressed forward as she spread her legs to find the chair with one foot and the drawer with the other. "Pow," the thunder exploded, indecipherable from the blinding flash of light. William penetrated her as drenching rainfall began to pound the world around them. They both moaned with desperation as he surged deeper and deeper inside of her, passionately making love as the storm erupted overhead. Concentrating on his lover's breathing, William knew she was close to her release with its pause, and redirected his attention to the sensations he felt at the point of their deepest union.

Just as she anticipated the sound of a crash of thunder after seeing the flash of white light from a bolt of lightning, so too she knew that once she had felt the tightness of her boundaries begin to unfurl, she only had to wait to feel the explosion of waves within her that seemed to rock her to the core. If he timed it right …

William softened and melted deeper into her arms. His rhythm slowed as his strokes lengthened and his throat rumbled, the sound rolling over his tongue and floating into her ear to join with the hum of her own deep moan, bringing with it the crescendo of their symphonic culmination of pleasure and love.

Starkly in opposition to the cacophony, everything was now still, quiet. Lightning softly flickered the sky, opening the darkness of the room by illuminating the edges of objects. Julia swallowed and placed her lips even closer to his ear, "Oh, William I…" she said, not finding words to express the feelings. Gently they each became aware of the sounds of their breathing, felt the pounding of their own heart matched by that of their lover's, as the whirling in their heads slowed. William lifted Julia up and turned to carry her back to bed. Having recovered sufficiently to speak she said, "I am quite capable of walking," as she dipped her head to kiss and nibble on his neck.

He stopped, holding her in the center of the room, and teased her, " _ **Now**_ … You are quite capable of walking, _**now**_ ," he said with a smile sneaking onto his face.

She held onto him tighter and said, "I will not deny it … Sometimes William, you make me swoon."

He twirled her into a spin and then took her to the bed. First dropping to his knees, and then carefully rolling onto his side, he brought them to rest side by side on the bed. He rolled onto his back and Julia rested her head on his chest. Dawn bloomed outside the window, spreading a dusty orange and pink light upon the world. William took one of her curls in his fingers, marveling at the shimmer and glow. " _As if a star on a stage_ ," he thought. Julia lifted her head, bringing her eyes to meet with his. Eyes dilated and glazed, skin luminous in the supple light of sunrise, they each softened, opening themselves to the other. William breathed first, breaking the spell. He rolled her over to place her on her back. Then he pulled the blankets up over them and whispered in her ear, "Let's sleep." He tucked a pillow under his head and cloaked her with an arm and a leg. It was a Saturday and they were on vacation – in their own lake-house. The sleep was deep.

The smell of coffee indicated that Ruby was already awake. They dressed, William in his most casual clothing, and joined her in the kitchen. It was not until his eyes met Ruby's that he remembered the banging headboard. He quickly looked away. Ruby said, "Good morning, lovebirds," and chuckled.

"Good morning Ruby," Julia said, sounding to William as absolutely normal as ever.

He took his clue from her and decided not to address the insinuation, "Such a beautiful morning," he added. He sighed and offered, "Allow me to be in charge of cooking breakfast," as he opened the ice box to see their choices. He lifted up some bacon and suggested, "How about eggs and bacon?"

Julia took a seat at the kitchen table next to Ruby, preparing to watch the show, and replied, "Wonderful."

"Gorgeous and cooks too?" Ruby said.

William placed a pan on the stove and turned to look at his wife. She held his eye and replied to Ruby, "Yes, he has many talents," finding it impossible to keep the smile from growing on her face.

Once again, William felt an urgent need to look away, doing so in time to hide his blushing. Placing the bacon in the pan, he exhaled through pursed lips and thought, "It sure gets hot in this kitchen."

They discussed their plans for the day while they ate. William wanted to use the lot plans provided by the lawyers to determine if the boundaries of the property were still properly marked and to investigate the outside buildings. Julia and Ruby wanted to talk together – to catch up. And Julia wanted to find some time alone to read the letter from Caroline Hill.

Outside, William found the old stonewall that bordered their property. There were a few places that needed repair. He sighed as he imagined lifting the heavy rocks and placing them correctly, picturing the dirt and sweat ruining the only casual clothes he had brought. He had not had a chance to lift any weights all week – " _It was a very hectic week_ ," he thought, and the exercise would do his body good. He decided to remove his shirt as there was no one around to see him bare-chested anyway and re-build the weaker spots in the wall.

Comfortably nestled in the living room, able to see the picturesque view of the yard and lake through the large window, Ruby and Julia talked about anything and everything, as close sisters will. Ruby admitted to feeling love, a strong love the likes of which she'd never felt before, for William's half- brother Jasper. She had to push him away, she said, because he wanted marriage and exclusivity - things she did not believe would enable her to truly be happy. He was predictably broken-hearted and had returned to the west coast. Now she found, particularly watching Julia with William, she was feeling regret for her decision – but she was still skeptical about there being any hope of working it out. Julia advised her that if it was meant to be, then she would be driven to try. She agreed that based on what she knew of Jasper, it would need to be an exclusive relationship – and likely marriage, although, unlike with William, Ruby and Jasper had made love without being married, and so marriage may not be essential for them to be happy.

The maid, Judith, an attractive and self-confident young woman, came to clean. She explained that she lived just up the hill from them and would be pleased to continue working here. They arranged for her to stay on, agreeing to pay her well whenever Julia and William's children came, as she would serve as their nanny. Ruby and Julia had nearly finished their talk when Judith began to clean the living-room window.

Ruby noticed that Judith had paused and was intently watching something out the window. She asked, "Judith, what is it?"

"Oh, mam, sorry. There is a man, I presume your husband, Miss Julia … He, umm …"

Ruby and Julia got up to see for themselves. Julia gasped at the sight. Her husband, the most buttoned-up man she'd ever known, was outside, bare-chested, and doing chin-ups from the branch of a tree. He looked good - very, very good.

Ruby smiled with glee and said, "Oh Judith, you should definitely have shared this with us sooner – Did you think you could keep such a sight to yourself?"

Judith blushed and began to rapidly rub the window with her cleaning cloth. "I … umm …"

Julia had regained her composure and wanted to save the poor young woman from further stress. She said, "Now ladies, the man we are all … observing … is _**my**_ husband. And I am making it clear right now. Only _**I**_ flirt with him," she uttered firmly with her eyes drilling into her sister's, fighting the urge to laugh.

Judith responded, still intent on focusing on cleaning the window, "Well of course, mam, you are his wife. I was not … umm, He is too old for me anyway," she said, quickly realizing it could be taken the wrong way. She turned to stare at Julia apologetically.

Julia found herself liking the young woman's blunt, imperfect ways. "All true," she concluded, putting the woman at ease. With one more glance at her husband, she turned to return to her place on the couch. Ruby followed. Reminding each other that they were pretty much done with their talk anyway, they parted with Ruby deciding to write in her journal for a while to see if it helped her reflect on her thoughts. Julia retrieved Caroline Hill's letter and went down by the lake to read it.

Having spotted his wife down by the lake, William approached, shirt still in hand. Noticing she had the letter in her hand and thinking she looked as if she had been crying, he paused a few feet away and asked, "Still want some more time alone?"

She turned to look at him, struck for a moment by his naked chest and his physical attractiveness. She held his eye and said, "No, no William. Please join me." As he sat she stared at his chest and commented, with an eyebrow raised, "Um, your attire … It is a bit unlike you, William?"

He chuckled and explained, "It is the only shirt I have. I didn't want to get it dirty."

Julia dropped her eyes to his trousers and said, "And by the look of your trousers it certainly would have," as a playful smile overtook her face.

He laughed. Holding the corners of his mouth firmly to fight the growing smile he replied, "Well, I was unwilling to take them off as well." She laughed and the sound filled his heart with joy.

William's eyes fell to the letter in Julia's hands. She told him that Caroline Hill had included a letter from her father to her that he had written before he … died. "He had done for our mother what Caroline Hill had done for him," she said. He had written about his relationship with Julia. He explained that he had wanted a boy – was disappointed that she was a girl. Yet, he found he marveled at her right from the beginning. She knew no fear and was filled with a stubborn determination for learning about everything around her. Once Ruby was born (Julia was three), Julia became bonded to her father so strongly that he took her with him to his medical practice most days. She was always trouble, but he found he only loved her more for it. He described one time when Julia was four-years old. He had been trying to find Julia, here at the lake-house. Out the window he saw her toy rocking horse pulled up against the base of a tree (Julia thought, " _Perhaps it was the same tree William was doing chin-ups on earlier?_ "). He couldn't believe it, but the little girl had stood on it and leaped up to grab the first branch and then climbed higher and higher into the tree. When he stood below and looked up, she clung to the top. He called up to her, anger and concern in his voice. "But Daddy, I wanted to see," she had explained. Julia had climbed down only to rest on the bottom branch and realize that she could not get down – even a jump seemed risky as the rocking horse was in the way of a safe landing. Her father had teased her – claiming that once again she had bitten off more than she could chew. To his astonishment, his young daughter climbed back up the tree to jump across to a neighboring tree and then finally jump safely to the ground from that tree instead. From that day on, her father had struggled with his conflicting fear for her safely and his admiration of her tenacity. By the time her mother died, he found that Julia's unique ways rendered her likely to be outcast by her society. It was too late, but he tried to rein her in for her own good.

"He also wrote about us, William," she said. "He had heard that I turned down your proposal. He couldn't understand why I would do that. He figured I was just destined to be unhappy in love as he had been. It saddened him… I do so wish he had lived long enough to learn the truth - to know we married and are happy … to meet his grandchildren." She started to cry. He took her in his arms and she cried on his shoulder for a time. The tears ran their course and the couple headed into the house for lunch.

Over the meal Ruby and Julia reminisced about their childhood. Ruby remembered that Julia climbed trees all the time – that she would do so when she ran away from home. Ruby explained that even when she knew to look up in the trees for her missing sister, she still had trouble finding her. When she did, she would beg Julia to come down and to come home. Sometimes it wasn't till way after dark that Julia would come into the house – infuriating her father. Unfortunately, near the end, her mother didn't seem to even notice Julia had been gone. They told Ruby that William used to work in the logging camps and also loved to climb trees. William talked Julia into joining him in tree climbing after lunch. They struggled with what she would wear, as she was unwilling to climb in a dress and corset. They decided that they would both wear their bathing suits - that way William's clothes wouldn't get ruined either.

They walked uphill, deeper into the woods. Julia found a maple tree she thought looked inviting. She needed William to help her up to the bottom branch, but from there she adeptly moved up the tree. William decided to climb a neighboring tree – also a maple. Soon they both clung to the tops of their trees carrying on their conversation from atop the world. They shared an intense reaction to the experience. William described it as feeling both profoundly alerted to the world around them while at the same time feeling totally relaxed and at ease.

Julia pointed out a thunderstorm far off over the lake. They agreed that it seemed far enough away not to pose a threat. However, within a few moments, thunder could be heard rumbling across the sky. William decided it would be best if they started climbing down. When he was about half way down his tree a thunderous boom, accompanied by a flash of light, exploded close by – too close for comfort! Even though there still was no rain and the clouds had not completely darkened the sky, the nearby lightning strike spelled trouble. William knew there would likely be another. "Hurry Julia! Get down Now!" he screamed out. William raced down the branches, leaping to the ground just as a bolt of lightning hit another tree – this one much closer than before. He could smell the ozone. It was close.

He ran over to stand below Julia's tree. She was almost down – only about 12 feet to go. He was about to call out to her to tell her to jump down from where she was when a massively staggering blast came from the tree he had just been in. The explosion flung both Julia and William through the air. William hit the ground about 8 feet away. He turned to see Julia smack the ground, taking the brunt of the crash on her shoulder and then rolling in a ball to end up face up a good 15 feet away from the tree she had been in. By the time he got to her side, some relief had come as he could tell she was conscious. She was stunned and disoriented. Soaking rain began to beat down from the sky. Another nearby burst stung their ears, and the smell of ozone, as well as smoke from William's burning tree, triggered the urgent alarm to get to safety.

He pulled Julia up to her feet. Her face registered recognition when her eyes met his. "William! I thought you were in the tree – that you had been hit by lightning!" she declared, her face wrinkling into stress, her tears indecipherable from the rain running down her face.

"We need to get away from these trees NOW!" he demanded, grabbing her by the hand and racing down the hill. Merely seconds later another crash flashed behind them. Reaching a clearing they quickly halted and William pulled her down to join him in a squatting position in front of him. She looked to him, fully willing to do whatever he told her. "Put your heels together – make sure they're touching," he directed. They remained in this position for quite some time, crouching huddled together as the storm roared around them.

"I thought you were dead," Julia said through gasps. She leaned forward into him, threatening to fall apart, shaking in his arms, she cried, "I thought you had been … struck … by the lightning."

William struggled not to lose his balance as she pressed against him. "Keep your heels together Julia. Look at me! Heels touching!" She managed to pull herself together and do as he said. By the time she had regained her whereabouts, her legs ached from holding the stressful position. The last few lightning strikes seemed to be further and further away. They decided they were safe enough to make a run for the house.

When they arrived at the door, he knew she was alright when he heard her joke, "It's a good thing we wore our bathing suits," as he opened the door and they poured into the entryway.

He closed the door behind them and pulled her into his arms. "Yes," he chuckled, "Yes it was wise," he agreed as he allowed his body to fall backwards and rest against the closed door. The overwhelming relief he felt to have her safely in his arms flooded through his body. He was unwilling to loosen his hold on her for quite a few moments.

Ruby rushed to the door to take in the sight of them. "Are you alright?" she asked.

William answered, keeping his arms tightly around Julia, "Yes… We are now."

Julia's voice sprang from the place where her face had settled in his neck, "Yes Ruby, we're fine." She was completely happy to stay nestled with him. The severity of their plight had not really sunk in yet, nor the awareness of the pain from her injuries. Both of them had sustained scratches and scrapes from the branches as they had bolted down from the trees, and harbored a few bruises from hitting the ground. Julia's shoulder was extremely sore, but she believed it was not broken. They would recover.

After William had taken a bath and they had changed into dry clothes, the three of them sat down around the kitchen table to have some warm tea. They enthusiastically reviewed the experience with each other and Ruby. William explained the science, "The ground holds a positive charge, the sky a negative one. The charge actually travels upwards from the ground to the sky. It will find the fastest, most direct path to travel along - thus using solid objects touching the ground to climb through as it tries to move upwards. The reason you want to place your body in a low position is so the electricity will choose something taller than you to travel along, but you also want to be far from tall objects - as you saw with the tree," he said, strongly catching Julia's eye. "It's best to crouch close to the ground so you are low, but to keep your heels together so that if a charge starts to travel into one of your feet, the shortest path _through you_ will be out through your other foot. This way your vital organs are spared," he explained.

During the frightening ordeal, "time seemed to shift," Julia said. "As I lie there on the ground, I actually had enough time to think about how ironic it was that William was so enthralled by electricity, and that it was his being electrified by lightning that killed him in the end," she explained. Their fervent conversation, having helped alleviate some of the jitters, finally drained down, and they shifted to planning dinner. One important conclusion from the talk, though, was that William would install a lightning rod on the house. (They already had one on the home he had planned and they had built back in Toronto, along with an as sundry of other specialties, like hidden passageways, showers, and scrutiny cameras. He planned on installing showers and few scrutiny cameras here as well).

They called the children to make sure all was well. Julia told them about their adventure, leaving out the part about them almost dying. William informed them that they would be learning how to be safe in Thunderstorms when they got home tomorrow afternoon.

That evening, Julia took a bath while William lay on the bed, already in his pajamas, reading a science magazine he had brought with him from home. The bath felt lovely, but rinsing the soap out of her hair was a struggle – She had really come to appreciate the showers William had built in their home. " _Now they're catching on everywhere,_ " she thought, " _Perhaps George is right and William could have been a rich man if he had tried to make a profit on some of his inventions_." She dried off and wrapped herself in her – William's – favorite robe.

When Julia walked out of the bathroom, she caught William's eye and smiled. He had wanted to have some time to relax and read, and she was glad to see he had gotten a chance to do so. She went to the vanity and started the challenging work of gaining control over her wet locks. Her eyes found William's reflection in the mirror as he read behind her. Love for him warmed her heart, but was so very quickly joined by her fear of losing him. The emotions battled within her, provoking a sigh. She turned her attention back to her hair. Soon however, she was once again stuck staring at the reflection. " _He is so handsome, still after all this time_ ," she thought.

Completely aware that his wife was admiring him in the mirror, but not looking up to betray his knowledge that she was doing so, William non-challantly said, "Julia, there can't be much excitement in watching another person read," and tuned the page.

"Oh, but there is…," she replied, voice husky and slow, "…When that person is you."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers in the mirror. He had the look that always floored her – Made her insides flip and her knees weak. She was glad she was sitting down. William got out of the bed and came next to her, resting his buttocks down on the vanity. He crossed his arms in front of himself and turned to look at her.

She stood, pushing the chair back, and reached up to caress his lips, his chin. He reached over and untied the sash of her robe, then pulled it slightly open. His eyes darkened with desire. Julia thought, " _Oh, here it comes_ ," as swirling waves of dizziness overtook her mind and her womb tightened and pulled her closer to unbridled need. But then another thought took her, " _I would never have seen him look at me like this ever again_." An ache filled her.

"To think that I would never have been able to touch you again," she said, first holding his eyes but then dropping her head. Distress built within her. Her forehead wrinkled, tears were coming. She pushed them away, took a deep breath. Once their eyes met again, however, the train of thought resumed. "I would never hear your voice – my god William, I so love the sound of your voice," She stepped closer, moved her lips to his ear, "I would never smell you again, taste your skin…" The tone of her voice rose, taking on a squeakiness, as the fear and pain filled her senses, "I…I would never again feel you hold me in your arms." Outright crying now, she stepped back, turned to look down at the vanity. She said, sadness enveloping her, "This morning, here … in the dawn, with the storm raging outside … it would have been the last time we made love."

William leaned in. He lifted her chin to capture her eyes with his. With a winsome smile, one that he knew would win her heart, he said, "At least I would have gone out with a bang," as he wrinkled his face and tilted his head, inviting her to laugh.

She did. Then she added, "Yes, in more ways than one." They both chuckled. Her crying had slowed. She sniffled, wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She turned to look back at him once more. Torment flooded back across her face and she started to sob. She said, through gasps, "I don't think I could survive it William. I really don't."

He took her face in his hand and brought his face close to hers. "Julia, you would," he said, stroking the tears from her cheeks.

"No, no. I wouldn't," she replied, sobbing so hard that her body was shaking.

William's voice was so low, so calm, so confident … so caring as he said, "We have made a life together. We have children now… They would love you even if I were gone. And you love them."

"I do," she agreed nodding, her eyes glued to his. She took a shaky breath.

"And you are so strong, Julia. They would need you – you would suffer my loss together, heal together," he continued.

"I would never be able to heal from the loss of you William. I know it," she argued.

"Well, if not heal, then cope. Julia," he said, taking her face firmly in his hands, his voice insistent, "You have so much to offer the world – so much joie d' vie… so much vim and vigor…"

She hugged him tightly and sobbed on his shoulder. He swayed, rocking her, holding her, waiting for the waves of fear and dread to pass. A few moments later he took a deep breath, reminding her to breathe as he did so. She lifted her head from his shoulder, sniffed, took a deep breath. She reached up and wiped away a tear from her cheek, took another deep breath and said, with her eyes still averted from his, "It's just that I love you so much."

"And I you," he said.

"And that makes it so much harder … It's so much to lose," she said, finally looking him in the eye.

William wrinkled his face the way he does when he is unable to deny something and replied, "Yes."

Julia walked over to the big window and looked out. The darkness outside only served to intensify the quality of the reflection of light within the bedroom. It was only an image of herself that she could see. Her mind wandered, coming to the memory of a similar reflection in the window of their New York City honeymoon suite a decade ago. (Story: Under His Spell in a Room With a View). He had romantically stunned her that night, using the reflection in the window. His romantic passion had remained nearly every day since.

"Do you remember the view we had in our honeymoon suite?" she asked, finding his reflection in the window.

William felt a stirring in his groin. He walked up behind her, looked over her shoulder at their reflection in the mirror, with his eyes drawn down by the subtly revealed curves of her body through the loosely-opened robe, and said, seduction in his voice, "Who'd of thought there could be a view any lovelier?" He pulled her damp curls back, revealing her neck, tucked his face to her and deeply inhaled her scent. His hands slid around her waist, caught the edges of the robe and opened it wider. " _Oh my God_ ," he thought as he felt his groin bolt towards her. He reached up and guided the robe over her shoulders, letting gravity take it to the floor. She gasped. He pulled her back into him. They both watched their reflection in the window as he explored her body. Passion was taking hold of him and his hands rubbed harder, pinched and kneaded her flesh more urgently.

"William, be gentle with me tonight, I'm tender," she said, reminding him of the ordeal she, they, had been through earlier this day. She turned around and pushed him back enough to reach the buttons on his pajama top. As she began to unbutton them she noticed he seemed paralyzed with lust. He had not taken a breath. A smile took her face as she realized that he was fixated on the view he saw in the reflection. " _He always did have a weak spot for my… derriere_ ," she thought. She kissed his neck and whispered in his ear, "Breath William." He did. She finished unbuttoning the pajama top, feeling the strength of his erection as she reached the bottom button. She opened the top and took in the view of his muscular chest. She gave in to her urge to touch, sweeping her open hands all around and over the well-defined ripples. Reaching her arms up around his neck, noticing but pushing aside the pain this evoked in her left shoulder, she enticingly asked, "Do you like what you see?"

"Mmm," he answered.

Knowing it would drive him wild, Julia wiggled her hips. She was rewarded by William's moan and his pressing closer to her. She pulled at the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, drawing a gasp from him. As she slid the soft fabric over his hips and down his legs, she bent over, keeping an arch in her back, until her fingers brought the pajamas all the way down to the floor.

William's eyes were transfixed by the reflection in the window. His eyes dilated, his heart skipped, and his breath caught when he saw, between the two round half-moons of her buttocks, the precious pink flesh of her folds.

Julia heard the burst of air flood out of him. She knew he was losing control. Her heart was pounding with delight. She wanted to push him completely over the edge. She stayed in her bent over position, and with one hand pressed firmly against his back pulling him forward into her, she took his erect desire for her in her other hand. She felt him twitch in reaction. Then she slowly covered him with her mouth, the warm, slippery sensations encompassing him, sending his mind into a spin. He had to have her – be inside her. He stepped back from her torturous challenges to his self-control. He pulled her up, took her hand, and led her over to the wall. He turned her around, firmly took her hips in his hands, and had his way with her.

Afterwards, knowing her needs had not been met, he led her to the bed, lay her on her back and then said, "Plan C – but without the nightgown, hmm?"

Although she had not yet had the release she so desired, she was extremely aroused. Lust swirling in her brain, she could not speak. She nodded and said, "Mm-hmm." He tenderly and then hungrily, touched, kissed, and sucked down her body, finally arriving to the spot that was swollen and flooded with agonized need by his poignant teasing. He knew exactly how to bring her to the relief she pleaded for, sending her body into ecstasy.

The next morning, William rolled over to softly awaken his wife and seduce her once more. With the first thrust inside of her she noticed the silence – The headboard did not bang against the wall. "You fixed it?" she asked.

Holding her ear lobe in his mouth, she could feel the smile grow on his face, as he paused their perfect motion. He let her ear lobe go and said into her neck, "I think the pounding of our hearts, along with the occasional roar of a thunderstorm, provides more than enough of a beat to enrich our lives… Besides, it should cut back on the noise complaints." Only moments later, Julia's cries of ecstasy rocked his soul. As they lay together recovering in the afterglow, William said, "Well, there may be nothing we can do about the noise complaints after all," as he gave her a teasing tickle in the ribs.

"William! I, umm…" she said, feigning insult.

"Oh, you know I love it," he replied, with a twinkle in his eye that made him irresistible. "And besides, I always liked it when we got noise complaints at the hotel – I kind of miss them now that we live in our own house," he added. "Speaking of which, let's head home, Mrs. Murdoch," he concluded as he rolled over, hopped out of bed and offered her a hand.

 _ **They should have taken their close call with the thunderstorm as the warning it was. Fortunately, they stood a good chance in facing what was to come – after all, when they were together, there was nothing stronger.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 2: Thursday, July 31, 1913

Constable Crabtree and Detective Murdoch sat together in a carriage headed for a crime scene. William's mind was stalled on his lonely night and the difficulties he'd been encountering sleeping without his wife. He worried that this case might hinder his ability to go visit her later today. George commented on the news that the Inspector had been telling them when the call of a body being found came in – there was to be a new detective to be trained by Murdoch – supposedly to work in a different stationhouse. George was skeptical about that, as stationhouse #4 had by far the most murder investigations of any of the stationhouses, and would therefore be the most likely to need a second detective. They speculated about any of the other detectives leaving. As the carriage pulled to a halt, George said, "Sir, I must admit … it stings to know that I would have been a detective and now I know I never will be."

"Never say never, George," the detective replied. Stepping out of the carriage, he continued, "Time has a way of making things that once seemed impossible possible … Look at myself and Dr. Ogden."

George followed the detective down towards the shore of the Lake Ontario. He sighed and agreed, "Yes sir, I see, but still, it does seem so unlikely."

The detective felt for the younger man, but he also knew that the choices he had made were made for noble reasons. "George," he said, "We all make choices in our lives. You and I have both made some that have cost us dearly, and yet, I truly believe that we both made the correct choices when it really mattered – the type of choices that reveal one's true character. I hope you do not regret yours."

The constable sighed and hesitated, seeing Constable Higgins up ahead and not wanting their conversation to be overheard, "Thank you sir, it helps to see things from the bigger picture – instead of getting bogged down in only the costs… I mean I do have Edna now … and I would not likely have kept her heart without …"

"She'd have loved you anyway George," Murdoch insisted, "But you acted from your love for her, not so that she would love you … They are related but not the same thing."

"Yes, I see," he replied. "The decision came from within rather than being motivated by things outside of myself … It is true I never felt so much love for another as when I took the blame … and I never felt so strong either," he reflected.

Murdoch faced forward and started walking again, signaling an end to their intimate conversation. He concluded, "Yes George, they say love conquers all – I guess for it to work though, you have to start with having the love."

Constable Higgins was waiting for them and joined as they continued their walk to the body that could be seen washed up on shore. He filled them in on what had been found so far. The body was found by some teenagers intending to go for an early morning swim. George mentioned that he had heard the area had a reputation for hosting – free swimming, "Au Natural."

For a brief moment, William's mind re-ran the image of Julia – naked – standing before himself and the Inspector after saving George's life at the nudist camp. He felt his face blush slightly and then chuckled at himself in his head, " _I couldn't not look, although I surely tried… She was so gorgeous … I think that's why I booked the hotel room that night…"_ he shook his head in reaction to his own internal thoughts.

"Sir… Sir," Higgins pressed. The two constables shared a look.

Being pulled out of his inner fog, the detective startled slightly and said, "What else have you?" He scolded himself for being so easily distracted, " _William – Focus!_ " he thought.

Higgins explained that the remains of a small boat that had partially sunk could be seen in the distance, pointing out into the lake. All three men shaded their eyes and peered out into the distance. No bodies were found in the boat. Murdoch told Higgins to call to get a crew to have the boat hauled in as it would likely need to be part of the investigation.

Upon investigating the body, it seemed there was a blow to the side of the head. There was no identification on the man. In his pockets Murdoch found some keys on a key chain that had the initials "ACA" engraved within a circle. "Perhaps his initials?" Murdoch speculated to George.

"Or it could be the initials of a place of employment?" George suggested. The carriage from the morgue arrived to take the body to stationhouse #3. "It's too bad Dr. Ogden can't help with this one, hey sir?" George asked, realizing he was bringing up a touchy subject after the words escaped his mouth.

Murdoch frowned and sighed, "Yes, I'll have to go over to stationhouse #3 later to get the results from Kingsley... And we'll have to come back later when they've pulled the boat ashore," he replied.

Later that afternoon, Detective Murdoch returned to examine the boat. It was clear that the boat's hull had experienced an explosion. Murdoch was quite intrigued to see that an entire layer within the hull consisted of an aluminum section that was hollow. In the back of the boat there was a machine that seemed to be an air compression tank and a dispenser. " _Ah,_ " he thought, " _An inventor testing his invention. It's sort of like an anti-torpedo defense mechanism – Once the hole is blown in the side of the boat, the machine pumps pressurized air out through the hole, keeping the water out and stopping the boat from sinking. It seems it didn't work._ " Murdoch shook his head, he felt an akinship with a fellow inventor, and hated to see such a man's failure cost him his life. He imagined in his mind's eye, the torpedo hitting the hull of the boat, triggering the release of pressurized air. But the pressurized air not only blew out towards the water as planned, but it also burst into the boat itself – as the aluminum layer had been broken all the way through by the torpedo. The dead man likely was knocked to the ground by the blast of pressurized air, where he got the blow to the side of the head. Of course, before he could rule the man's death an accident due to a failed experiment, he would need to know who he was, and if there were others on board, and who he worked for. Inside the boat he found the plans for this "anti-torpedo" machine and some plans for other inventions - Most seemed to involve weapons or weapon defenses. He packed them up to bring back to the station. " _I half expect Meyers to show up,_ " he thought.

Back at the station, Murdoch studied the plans he had found on the boat. He noticed some of them had the same initials on them (ACA) – making it more likely that the key chain came from the victim's place of employment, or financial backer, than actually being the initials of his name. Higgins poked his head in the office and informed the detective that the coroner wouldn't be conducting the post-mortem until tomorrow morning. He instructed Higgins to send George to go to the morgue and get a photo of the victim. Murdoch sighed and thought, " _Well, maybe Julia wouldn't have been able to do it first thing either._ " He tried to focus his attention back on the plans in front of him, but his mind drifted, having been allowed to think of his wife once again, it would be hard to pull it back. An old memory took center stage. It was of the first time he had visited Julia's morgue when she was playing a record on the Victrola. He remembered how enthralled he felt by her – her uniqueness, her joi de'vie. He recognized even now that he was already in love with her at the time. He took a deep breath, noticing the ache he felt from his missing her burn stronger when he exhaled. He forced himself to look back down and focus on the plans. The one he was currently studying consisted of means to arm dirigibles, or air ships, with guns and bombs to attack from the skies. Another was of something labeled a "battlefield light" that, when launched into the air by a cannon-like gun and then floating under a parachute, lit up so brightly that hiding enemy soldiers could be found.

The detective informed Inspector Brakenreid of what he knew so far. He suggested that talking to James Pendrick might be a good place to start, "Particularly the armed derigible plans might provide a connection – Pendrick was always interested in flight," he argued. " _He might know something about the other plans too_ ," the detective thought, keeping these to himself for now.

It turned out that Pendrick had no idea who could be wrapped up in the making of such weapons, but he sent Murdoch to Reginald Poundset, of all people. It had been many, many years since Murdoch had thought about Reginald Poundset – He had only known Julia a little over two years at the time. While riding in the carriage to Poundset's business, William re-played the memories of meeting Julia and "Reggie" in the park one night while he was with Enid Jones and her son Alwyn – And how he had been jealous even though it was unreasonable to be so – as he himself had started courting Enid before Julia had started seeing Poundset. In the end she wasn't even being courted by him – rather she was taking hot air balloon lessons from him. A smile covered William's face when he remembered jumping into the balloon to join Julia and see, "where the wind would take them." " _My God, we went far_ ," he thought, feeling grateful for the warm feelings pumping through him with the memory and with the focused awareness of how happy they had been together these so many years later.

Poundset was preparing for an upcoming balloon race. He was working on multiple balloons. He said a man had approached him with the idea of attaching guns to the balloon baskets and even dropping bombs from balloons. He had found the idea ludicrous. It's nearly impossible to steer a balloon sufficiently to line it up with one's chosen target, and further, the risk of having the helium ignite and explode was too high. He finished his point, saying, "And a hot air balloon would be nothing more than target practice for any guns on the ground."

Murdoch agreed. He asked if he would recognize the man if he saw a picture. Poundset thought so. He planned on sending George or another constable tomorrow once they had the photo.

Poundset asked after Julia. William tried to hide his pride when he told him they had married and were very happy. "Please give Julia my regards, and tell her I'm always around if she wants to have another ballooning adventure," he said.

William replied, "We have three children … Knowing Julia, she'll want to take you up on that offer, and she'll want to bring the children along too."

"They'll love it!" Poundset declared as they shook hands and William headed on his way.

On his way back to the station, he planned on stopping by to see the Toronto Harbor Master. The boat would be tied up with people on the docks – people he hadn't really had many dealings with since the investigation into the attacks on the Inspector back before he and Julia were married. William sighed as he looked at his watch. It was too late now – he would not be able to go see Julia. A pang of guilt jolted through his heart. She would miss visiting with him greatly and he knew it. " _She might be worried too_ ," he thought. Briefly he found himself remembering the look on her face when she saw him standing there, flowers in hand for yesterday's visit. Her vulnerability seemed to make his heart warm and expand, as if he could serve as a blanket to cover and comfort her. Their embrace was soft, but long, filled with strong emotions and the sharing of love and care that felt bigger than the two of them – somehow timeless and meant to be. Neither alone, ever, because of the other. He would bring the children for their first visit Saturday. Like himself, Katie was taking Julia's absence especially hard. Last night she had had another nightmare. He was already awake to hear her and go console her – finding it difficult to fall back asleep after his own round of bad dreams. The carriage arrived.

He spoke with Mr. Jeffries, the man who replaced Cecily McKinnon as Toronto Harbor Master after she was found guilty and jailed for ordering the hit on the Inspector, along with multiple other crimes. Jeffries said he would need a photo to determine if he had ever met the man performing the experiment on the boat. However, he sent Murdoch to a man that might know about constructing a boat with an inner layer of aluminum in the hull. Murdoch met with some success following up this lead. Assuming the man who requested the construction of such a boat was the same dead man washed up on shore (Murdoch did not yet have a photograph of the dead man to verify this for certain), then he paid with American money and he had a strange accent. He also found the place the boat was docked and from there, the boarding home of the dead man. There, Murdoch found the man's identity. His name was Agdar Flate. He was originally from Norway and had a visa to live in the USA. Murdoch found even more weapons plans at the man's residence.

When the detective got back to the station, he saw Meyers in the Inspector's office. He sighed and thought, " _Of course… And where's Clegg – it seems the USA is involved too._ " He so wanted to look over the other plans before Meyers likely stole them away and closed the case for "national security." Although the Inspector had caught sight of him, there was no evidence Meyers knew he was back, so Murdoch slipped back out of the station and went into his office through the other door. Once inside he kept the lights off and hid in the backroom. In there, with the curtain drawn and the dim light illuminating the plans, he studied the other inventions mapped out before him. There were hand grenades, some with pins to be pulled and internal timers, other bombs seemed to be more like mines that could be detonated on contact or also, it seemed remotely, by an external signal – " _Perhaps a radio signal_ ," he thought. One that fascinated him was a horse-drawn cart that supplied water in which the micro-organisms had largely been killed by ultra-violet light, thus sterilizing the water.

Some of these plans had the same "ACA in a circle" symbol he had seen on the dead man's keychain and on some of the other plans. Now even more convinced that the mark signified a business, he would have to look into American ventures in weapons and military inventions etc. He figured, " _One of the 'A's might represent the word "American." This would fit with the fact that the man paid with American money._ "

Murdoch collected all of the plans he had not specifically told the Inspector about and hid them in the backroom, suspecting Meyers would try to take them. He then exited the little room and turned on his office lights to sit at his desk. He called home to ask their nanny, Claire-Marie, to wait to put the children to bed. He was planning on heading home soon and wanted the opportunity to spend some time with them before they went to sleep.

Meyers and the Inspector knocked and entered his office as he was finishing up the call. The air between himself and Meyers had never been quite the same since when Meyers and Julia went undercover together as husband and wife to help collect valuable information from a captured spy in Russia a few years ago (Story: Anger and Jealousy). He had been terribly jealous and still found himself struggling to talk with the man without having his fingers curl up into fists. They said their hellos and immediately the Inspector informed Murdoch that Meyers had ordered the case of the dead man and his boat closed due to matters of national security. Murdoch dropped his eyes to his desk and shook his head. He was trying to think of a way to argue to keep the case.

Meyers found the plans Murdoch had laid out on his work table and gathered them up. "Now look here Murdoch, I'm sure you would do a great job with this – as always, but Canada needs this matter to be handled quietly. It is extremely delicate. We don't want word getting out about this man or any of the things he was working on," Meyers explained.

Murdoch sighed and said, lifting his eyes to boldly meet those of Meyers, "Particularly no one from the USA, I'm sure."

Meyers inhaled deeply on his cigar, stalling for time. His mind was racing. Once again, Murdoch had discovered way too much in way too little time to possibly have discovered it. "What do you know that connects the man to our neighbors to the south?" he asked.

Murdoch knew he had him. He knew Meyers would not be able to rest thinking that Murdoch might have figured something out that he would need to know. All he needed to do now was call his bluff. "Well it doesn't matter now does it? The case is closed. I suppose we'll let the coroner know not to bother with the post-mortem …"

Meyers took a seat and said, "Perhaps I made my decision in haste. There may be, yet, good reason to allow your local murder investigation to continue… Although your government must be informed of _**everything**_ you find… and you must be discreet."

"Actually," Murdoch said as he stood from his chair and moved to get his hat, "I don't believe the man was murdered, so there is no need for a local murder investigation. I'm going to head home." Hat in hand, he turned to look at the Inspector and added, "As you know, my wife is no longer at home and I would like to take my leave. I hope to get back to the house before the children are to go to bed. Therefore, I bid you each goodnight." With that, the Inspector nodded goodnight, Meyers as well, and Murdoch took his leave.

Once Murdoch was out of earshot, Meyers asked, "My, my," taking another puff on his cigar, "I was under the impression that theirs was a storybook romance." Meyers glanced away, trying not to reveal too much about his inner thoughts, and walked towards the Inspector's office. He continued, "Now that Dr. Ogden … she's quite something – One hell of a catch if you ask me."

The Inspector was taken aback. It took him a moment, but finally he jumped into the conversation, "No. No, you've got it all wrong. They are still very much in love. It's just that she …" he said before his office door closed shut.

During the bicycle ride home, Williams's thoughts centered on remembering the late night Julia had returned home after her "mission" in Russia. His memory of the smell of Meyers' cigar smoke in her hair still incited anger in him. But he found it now mixed with a spark of arousal as he remembered kissing her and roughly questioning her, removing her clothing and coldly interrogating her more, and his head spun and his groin jolted with lustful stirrings as he remembered turning her around, pinning her against the wall with her backside vulnerable and exposed to him and asking harshly if Meyers had been aware of her lustful, stimulating dreams while he lay in the same bed with her. William's body twitched as he remembered powerfully penetrating her and having his way with her. As he rounded the last corner before arriving at their home, he consciously made an effort to remember a more tender time – guilt still accompanying the memory of that night.

There it was – warm, soft, delicious … It was the last night they had been together, a mere four days ago that felt like an eternity. They had shared a hot shower. The memory quickly set his mind to spinning. They were locked in each other's arms with the sound of the spraying water rumbling overhead, the moist steam filling their lungs, and the taste of the water as it mixed with Julia's skin flowing over his tongue as he kissed and sucked on her. She had said huskily in his ear, "Closer." He had backed her up against the wall of the shower and firmly slid inside of her. His body reacted to the thought, taking his breath. He had asked, with his voice deep and lust-filled, "Is this close enough?" before he began the rhythmical, deep pumping that set the beat for their lovemaking. He had felt Julia drop, weakening in his arms, and then whispering in his ear, flipping his brain over and surging him forcefully forward into her, "Closer… even closer." His control had erupted. An urgent demand to push deeper and deeper into her had taken over. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he penetrated far enough inside of her to touch the spot that housed the very center of her being. Like a magnet finally concluding its voyage to click with another, their connection ignited a deep, fulfilling completion. His imaginings of the memory of her moan as they had reached ecstasy weakened his knees and flooded his heart with joy. William sighed as he dismounted from the bicycle and carried it up the steps to leave it on the porch. He was home now – she was not.

He turned the key in the door and entered, pausing to hang his hat. William Jr. (8 years) and Katie (7 years) rounded the corner at rapid speed to dive and jump on him. Within moments they were both lifted off of the ground, held tight in his arms. "Oh, I missed you," William said, giving them each a kiss and firm squeeze.

Claire-Marie was holding the youngest, Chelsea (5 years), as she rounded the corner to join them in the foyer. "This little one is very sleepy," she said. Chelsea reached her arms out towards William indicating that she wanted him to take her.

William lowered the other two children to the ground and said, "Where's my littlest girl?" as he took Chelsea into his arms, kissing her and hugging her while swaying to create a quick rocking motion.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Katie said, "Claire-Marie has been helping us make cards for Mommy!"

William Jr. took his father's hand and started to drag him into the parlor. "Come see," he exclaimed.

William gave Claire-Marie and appreciative look and said, "Thank you so much Claire-Marie. You've really been a godsend through all of this. I've got it now, please go and enjoy the rest of your night."

She nodded and said, "Eloise made you a plate for dinner. Shall I heat it up for you?"

"No. No," he answered, "I'll get it after the children are asleep."

The coffee table between the couches and chairs was covered in papers and crayons. Each child quickly gathered up their creations to show off to their father. With Chelsea on his lap, and the other two children cuddled up against either side of him he exclaimed and praised their hard work. "Oh, your mother is going to love this," he said. "She's going to keep these forever, I bet," he concluded. "I brought home a camera – Tomorrow morning let's take a picture of each of you. I'll develop them and we can put a photo inside each card!" he explained.

The children bounced with glee, "Yay! Yes Daddy!" they exclaimed.

William Jr. asked, "Are you going to make a card for Mommy too?"

"Do you think she would like it?" he asked his son.

The boy nodded, "Yes Daddy," he replied.

William leaned forward and began choosing paper to use to make his card and answered, "Then I will. I'll make it after all of you are asleep."

Katie added, "You should put a photograph in your card too, Daddy."

"Great idea, Sweetie!" he agreed. "Now, it's way past your bedtime so…" he started to say.

"No. Please Daddy, No!" they all cried.

"Yes. Yes… I see you are already in your pajamas but did you brush your teeth?" he asked. Chelsea, still sitting on his lap started to shake her head 'no' but her bigger sister gave her a look demanding her silence. "Hmm," William said, "I think I'll need to check those teeth to see if they look clean," reaching over to open Chelsea's mouth.

"Run!" William Jr. exclaimed. Instantly children darted in all directions. Choosing to go after the instigator first, William took off after his son. He caught him quickly, first disarming him with a rampage of tickling, then playfully demanding, "Let me see those teeth young man!" The game was afoot and the rough-housing and giggling took much more time than their mother would ever have allowed if she were home. Finally William had the children tucked into their beds and quiet enough to feel sleepy.

He decided to work out with some weights and then take a shower. He readied for bed, dressing in his pajamas, and then went down into the kitchen to eat the dinner Eloise had prepared for him. His mind moved to considering what he would write in Julia's card. He imagined her sitting beside him at the table. She reached over to take his chin with her fingers and turn his face to meet hers. Even in his imaginings he found himself stunned by her beauty and its effect on him. His breath caught with the image. "How are you, William – really?" she would have asked. It was his answer to her that he would write in his card. He went into the other room and wrote the note. It was quick and to the point. He folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope. Writing Julia's name on the envelope it struck him how very much he missed her – the ache burning him so. He sighed _. "I can't concentrate at work either. I'm going to have to get a handle on this,_ " he thought.

Dreading trying to sleep, he headed upstairs. He stood staring at the empty bed. It almost seemed like a waste of time to even try to sleep in the bed without Julia – He already knew he was going to end up downstairs on the couch anyway. He pulled the sheet down and climbed in. It was hot, prompting him to leave the sheets wrinkled down at the bottom of the bed. He turned out the light and lay in the bed.

He realized he had managed to fall asleep only when he was awakened by a dream – a nightmare really. They had taken their three children to the lake-house. They had set up a picnic down by the shore of the lake. He and Julia were sitting together on the picnic blanket watching the children play. They had built a "fort" and were using some of William Jr.'s little toy soldiers to play at attacking and defending the fort. William Jr. was in the water using a boat to pretend part of the attack was coming from the water. Julia turned to look at William, arousal in her eyes. She stroked his chest and then pushed him down on the blanket. She kissed him. He immediately felt his body rise to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. A woman called from somewhere behind them. Julia stopped their kiss and looked into the distance after the voice. "I'll be right back," she said, standing and walking in the direction of the call. William remained on the blanket, propped up on an elbow watching the game the children were playing. A butterfly flew past him and landed on the fort near Katie. She screamed and called for help. William ran to her and scooped her up into his arms. Soon William Jr. also stood by his side with Chelsea. Everyone tried to convince Katie that the butterfly would not hurt her, but she was hysterical and having trouble getting control of herself. William put her down and softly, calmly caught the butterfly, leading the young girl to take a deep breath and calm down. Just as he opened his hands to show Katie that it was harmless, William Jr. called out, "Mommy!" and ran towards the water. William turned and saw her there, floating face down in the shallow water, her curls and dress flapping in the waves. His heart pounded so that it felt as if it would explode out of his chest. He ran so fast to her that he arrived before William Jr. and stopped the boy from coming any closer. Dread dripping in his core, he turned the body over … It was Julia! She was gone! He pulled her up to his chest, cloaking her in his arms, and sobbed. The wrenching woke him – chest drowned in sweat, tears pouring down his cheeks. He sat up in the bed– fought to catch his breath… Fought to grasp reality – To reassure himself that it wasn't real. He looked to see Julia in the bed beside him, but of course, she wasn't there. Then the pain of missing her hit – and it hit hard.

William imagined what Julia would say if she were there to soothe him. Placing his feet on the floor, sensing that it would help ground him, he talked himself through the feelings. _"It was just a dream. And it makes sense that you would dream such things. In some ways you really have lost Julia, and you are struggling with this. Not to mention that your son is the same age you were when your mother died – and you found your mother face down in the shallow water of the lake, like in the dream. Having empathy with 8-year-old William Jr. means I'm more likely to see the world as if through his eyes – and seeing the world through an 8-year-old's eyes is likely to trigger memories of that time in my life … Yes, I know this."_ William heard himself sigh. He thought, _"Perhaps I would do better down on …"_

From down the hall he heard Katie scream out. He ran to her, knowing she was having a nightmare again. She was already standing and nearly hyperventilating, tears drenching her cheeks, when he opened the door and lifted her into his arms. "You're alright sweetie… It's O.K. It was just a dream honey," he said tenderly in her ear. William noticed Chelsea was sitting up and he calmly told her, "Everything's fine – Your sister just had a bad dream. I'll take care of her. You go on back to sleep." He carried Katie out of the room.

As he passed William Jr.'s room he opened the door to see if the boy had been awakened by the commotion. "Is she alright, Dad?" William Jr. asked from the dark.

"Yes son, she'll be fine. Go on back to sleep," he said, noticing how touched he felt by his son's concern for his sister. Katie was crying and whimpering in his arms as he carried her downstairs and sat her down on the kitchen counter. "Let's make some hot chocolate, hmm?" he said, already taking out the pot and the milk.

Katie wiped her nose and sniffled, then shook her head.

"It will be such a treat to have hot chocolate in the middle of the night," William continued, figuring he would be doing most of the talking at first. He and his daughter sat at the kitchen table, sipping on their hot chocolate, talking. William didn't want to start her crying again, but he knew she would need to share about her dream if she was to have any chance of stopping the nightly bad dreams. "Was it the same dream as the other times?" he asked. She nodded yes. "You found Mommy dead on the floor?" he continued. Katie nodded yes more slowly. "Take a deep breath, sweetie," he advised leaning down closer to her. He waited as she did so. "Katie, do you remember your Mommy and Daddy before us?" he asked sounding as calm as possible.

"Yes," she replied, voice quiet and eyes down.

"You were four years old when you went to the orphanage… Chelsea was two… Remember?" She nodded. "Sweetie, your first Mommy and Daddy, they loved you very, very much," he started. He noticed Katie's face wrinkled in pain and the tears gently began to well up and then glide down her face.

"They died," she said, barely above a whisper.

"I know," he answered. He pulled her into his lap. Warmly he wiped away some of her tears. "I know," he said again blanketing her in a hug.

He held her. After a time he said, "You know, when I was a boy, the same age as William Jr. is right now, my mother died too."

"She did?" Katie asked, looking him in the eye for the first time.

"Yes," William continued, "And I found her after she had died. She was floating in the water."

Katie's face showed her distress, flushing red, wrinkling with pain and glistening with tears. Her voice strained through the swelling in her throat, as she said, "I found my Mommy too." She held her father's eyes, allowing the pain to flow between them.

"I'm so sorry that happened," William said. Katie sniffled again, brushed away a tear, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. William used the sleeve of his pajamas to better dry her face and wipe her nose. He pushed on, "But your Mommy and me, now, we love you more than anything…"

She shook her head, seeming comforted for a moment… before the pain flooded over her again and she cried out, "But what if you and Mommy die too!" The little one crumpled into sobs in his arms.

"No, no, no. Your Mommy and me aren't going to die," William said, rocking her soothingly, knowing in his heart there was no way he could make such a promise, but certain that it was the only thing he could say that would bring her peace. "We're going to be here with you for a long, long time – until you're all grown up. Your Mommy and me, we're going to love you forever," he vowed.

"But what if you die, will we have to go back to the orphanage, us and William Jr.?" she asked, worry enveloping her face, eyes demanding sincerity from her father in a way only one so innocent can.

"No, honey. First off, we're not going to die, but if that happened, you would all go live with Aunt Ruby, or maybe Uncle Jasper, but definitely not to an orphanage," he tried to explain as reassuringly as possible. "You know how very much Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jasper love you?"

She nodded. A moment passed and they each finished their hot chocolate. "Do you think Mommy will come home soon?" she asked.

William sighed. He didn't know the answer to that question. And he had his fill of making risky promises as well. "I don't know. I sure hope so though, I miss her so much," he replied.

"Me too," Katie's little voice echoed.

"I know you do," he said, giving her a squeeze. "We're going to go see her the day after tomorrow, hmm?" he said, trying to rouse some happiness in her. "And I think, besides the cards and the photos, we should bring some roses too. What do you think?" he asked.

"Can they be pink ones, Daddy?" she asked, sounding excited.

"Yep, your Mommy sure does love pink roses," William said, as he stood from the table with his daughter still in his arms. He put the cups in the sink and carried her to the door, and turned off the light. As he carried her up the stairs he hummed a song. Her breathing was deeper, calmer. He tucked her in and gave her a kiss. "Goodnight my beautiful girl," he said. It was dark, but he was sure she smiled.

Once again standing before the empty bed, he decided to accept his fate and gathered up some pillows and sheets and went downstairs to sleep on the couch. Exhaustion took its toll and he fell off quickly to sleep, benefitting from the fact that, when sleeping on the couch, it was normal to be alone. At some point before dawn, William was awakened from a dream – a quite pleasurable one this time. He was making love to Julia during a thunderstorm. The flickering lightning glistening her supple skin and illuminating her lustrous curves as she moved on top of him, straddling him – The thunder pounding them forward towards their climax. His breath still rushed and his heart still racing, he slowly accepted the reality that took hold as the sleepy fogginess in his head dissipated. Still grateful for the pleasurable sensations of the dream, the ache grew more and more as his heart-rate returned to normal, as he came to recognize that he was alone on the couch, that it was Friday and he had to get up and go to work, and that his lover, the love of his life, would not be with him any time soon, and worst of all – and this prodded his aching to border on agony, that she was suffering without him as well.

William released a big sigh. He needed to clean up, so he went into the downstairs bathroom and washed off the remnants of the dream. Relieved to know that he likely had another hour until he had to rise for the day, he tucked himself back into his cozy pile of pillows and sheets and dropped off to slumber once more.

The turning of the keys in the front door drew him out of sleep. Eloise closed the front door and started towards the kitchen when William called out, "Good morning Eloise. Aren't you a bit early this morning?"

She turned to behold the uncommon sight of the master of the house in his pajamas and having slept on the couch. Confusion covered her face as she thought, " _I know he sometimes is sent to the couch when they quarrel, but the mistress is not even home… Why is he…"_

William felt pressed to explain, "I uh … I am finding it difficult to sleep in our bed alone," he said.

Eloise could not help but hear his suffering in his words. Truth be told, she'd always had a big soft spot for the man, even when he was courting her mistress inappropriately, as she was a married woman at the time. She felt he held a unique respect for her, that in many ways he looked up to her – " _Not quite like a mother figure, maybe more like an aunt,_ " she thought. Her care for him now set her heart afire with a sad warmth for him. She so admired the love he felt for Miss Julia, and she was amazed at his devotion to their children. She knew he had suffered so very much at times – she had attended Dr. Ogden's trial, cried as she watched her be sentenced to hang – and noticed the detective nearly fall apart when hearing the news. Oh, how she wished she could find a way to comfort him now. "Yes, I'm sure you must miss her terribly…" she said, still trying to think of more soothing words. The sounds of little bare feet running down the hall upstairs pulled both of them to lift their eyes to the ceiling. "As do they …" she continued, "Thank goodness you have each other to help with the pain," she added. The children called out, "Daddy?" and could be heard charging down the stairs.

William's face revealed his most severe suffering and he said, "Yes, but Julia … she is alone."

The children rounded the corner at the half-way point on the stairs and caught sight of Eloise. "Eloise!" William Jr. called out, "You're here!" he said, just as he reached her and wrapped his arms around her to squeeze her in a hug.

She looked into the parlor, prompting the children to see that their father was home and on the couch, "Yes. Now go give your father his good-morning hug." Each child gave Eloise a hug before running to pounce upon their father, bursting into giggles of joy and play as he tossed them around and tickled them. Eloise helped William get the children washed up and dressed because Claire-Marie was taking the morning off.

The children played in the playroom in the basement while William dressed for work and Eloise prepared breakfast. William hurried to set up the camera in front of the couch and photographed each child for the pictures to be placed inside Julia's cards. William taught William Jr. how to use the camera so that there would be a photograph of William to put in his card for her too. Eloise reminded William and William Jr. that Dr. Tash was taking William Jr. to the Club this afternoon for a swimming lesson.

"I can't wait to see my picture Daddy," Chelsea said.

William swallowed his mouthful and said, "I'll be bringing them home tonight. I'm sure you will look beautiful, my little one." Chelsea rocked her head back and forth as she scooped up some more eggs, showing her delight with having her father compliment her so.

William Jr. put his fork down and asked, "Dad, how do you write good things? My card only says that I love Mommy and miss her."

William swallowed and put his fork down to take a sip of his tea and then replied, "Well, first off son, what you already wrote is good because it tells Mommy how you feel – and that's really the point of writing the card. Now, if you want to write something a little more powerful, well then you'll need to really sit and think for a while about how you are feeling. You need to go someplace quiet and really reflect – look in at yourself, and then describe what you see. You can describe thoughts you have, or ways your body feels, for instance."

Resuming the eating of his meal, William Jr. picked up his fork once again and asked, "Is that what you did for Mommy's card?" William nodded. "Can you read it to us?" he pushed.

William sighed. He was trying to remember what he had written and whether or not it would be appropriate for the children to hear. "Yes, I guess that would be alright. Go get it – It's on the coffee table," he said.

William Jr. quickly brought the card. William read it aloud, everybody seemed quite interested, even Eloise:

" **I would not be being truthful if I said I am fine without you, for I am not. It seems that you are so intertwined with every aspect of my life, every part of myself, that I cannot listen to someone speak without a memory of you being called up in my mind; I cannot look upon an object without seeing your face at some time or another as you interacted with such a thing; I cannot smell a smell without finding my attention drawn to a time I inhaled such a scent with you; there seems to be no sound that does not remind me of hearing it with you by my side; not even a taste that stands alone, as I find my tongue, too, is connected to countless memories I've shared with you. When we are apart, I seem to live in the past, finding my life only in my memories, or perhaps in the future, as I long to be with you once again. Without you, I have lost my present, my here and now, like a boat with no anchor, ungrounded and adrift in a dense fog. I find there is nothing I can do but wait it out until I can be with you again. It seems that only then can I be truly alive – as it is when we are together that we stand in the present and make memories and make plans for the future. Only with you am I grounded and firmly** _ **in**_ **the world as opposed to somehow outside of it. Yes, my love, it is true, only with you, am I fine."**

William felt concern that the children might feel hurt and worried by his not feeling "fine" with them. "When I wrote this last night I was missing Mommy a lot. And I think I forgot something that's important to remember and for you all to know… I love you so much that I find that, when I'm with you I am able to be in the present moment. You all make me so very happy and I love you so very, very much that it helps me feel better about missing Mommy," William explained to his children.

"Us too!" Chelsea declared. William stood up and lifted Chelsea into a hug and said, "I'm so glad!" Chairs flew and suddenly William found himself locked in the center of a big family hug. He kneeled down, making room for all three children to be wrapped in his arms. He didn't see it but Eloise was choked up as she watched the whole scene.

After a moment he said, "Now, I need to get going. I'm already going to be late… Eloise, I can't thank you enough for that delicious breakfast and for being here to care for us so very well." As he rose from his squatted position and looked her in the eye, he recognized her emotional reaction to … well, truth be told, he wasn't completely sure what touched her so, but he was touched that she was touched. Holding the eye contact tightly, he bowed to her slightly, "Thank you," he said, followed by one of his winning smiles.

Looking slightly embarrassed, she looked away and then back and replied, "You are very welcome," showering him with one of her brightest smiles as well.

With that, William prepared to take his leave. As he said good-bye to William Jr. he said, "Just tell your mother what it is feeling like to miss her, hmm?" The boy replied, "Thanks Dad," and they shared one more quick hug.

He propped his bicycle up against the wall of the station and bundled up the camera and the flowers he had bought for his visit to see Julia later. He picked up his messages and headed for his office. Constables Crabtree and Higgins exchanged their good-mornings with him and asked how it was going caring for the three children without their mother being home. William dropped his eyes away from theirs and sighed. He wrinkled up his mouth, appearing to admit to having troubles. "She is missed," was all he said. He stood up taller, giving off an air of confidence and changed the subject, "George, did you get the photo of our dead man yesterday?" he asked.

George proudly opened up a folder on his desk and pulled out a bunch of copies he'd made of the photo, saying, "Yes sir, developed and multiple copies." He handed the detective the photographs.

"Wonderful," Murdoch said, "Your photography skills have gotten quite good George," he added. "I'll need one of you to take this photograph to Reginald Poundset to verify if this is the man he told me about yesterday."

George seemed to search his memory. He asked, "That name sounds quite familiar sir…"

"I guess it should, George. You, um … investigated the man for me many years ago … for … personal reasons…" Murdoch said uncomfortably.

"Oh yes, I remember … you were … pining and …"

"That's right George," Murdoch interrupted, attempting to stop George from drawing much attention to something he was embarrassed about.

"Reginald Poundset … He was the one with the hot air balloons …"

"Yes George. He still is. He is preparing for a balloon race in a few weeks. A man approached him about …" Murdoch suddenly realized that he didn't want it known what he was working on – Supposedly the case had been closed. He signaled to the two men towards his office and walked into the office, hanging his hat and turning on the light.

The Inspector looked up and saw them. He called out, "Murdoch!"

Murdoch quickly filled them in on the dead man's tie to military weapons and that Poundset had been approached by a man wanting to arm balloons with weapons. "Take the main road towards Kingston and you'll find the balloons about 45 minutes out of Toronto on the right," he instructed. "Also, show the photo around the docks. I found out his name. It's Agdar Flate, Norwegian. Someone might recognize him…" Murdoch still had more to say but…

"Murdoch!" the Inspector bellowed impatiently.

Murdoch walked a step towards the door and continued, "Henry, I need a list of American companies that specialize in weapons, like bombs and submarines, that have the initials "ACA" – and I think one of the 'A's will be "America" or "American" …" He walked another step, now at the threshold, and added, close to a whisper, "And keep it quiet … the case has been closed by Meyers." Murdoch hurried into the Inspector's office.

The Inspector indicated that he wanted Murdoch to stay on the case – That he sensed Meyers did too, even though he did not say so. He had never cancelled the post-mortem and the coroner at stationhouse #3 should be doing it as they spoke.

"Very good sir," Murdoch said with a nod and turned to leave.

"Uh, Murdoch, I'd like to know about the other plans you found as well," the Inspector said.

With his back to the Inspector, Murdoch looked both caught by, and surprised at, the older man's insight. Murdoch took a deep breath and turned back to him. "Would you like to see them or have me describe them to you?" he asked.

"Oh Murdoch, you are a sneaky bugger sometimes aren't you?" the Inspector said with a big smile on his face. "Keep them hidden and fill me in," he decided. Murdoch told the Inspector everything he knew.

Developing the pictures with the curtain closed in the backroom, Murdoch was almost finished, only Chelsea's photo to go. He hung the photo of Katie up to dry. Suddenly the curtain was thrown open and light poured into the room. "What the devil…" Murdoch called out. "Meyers! It's you!" he said, still sounding surprised.

The Inspector came charging in behind Meyers. "Mr. Meyers, you have no right to barge in on my detective like this," he barked. The Inspector searched the table Murdoch was working at with his glance. Murdoch figured he was looking for the plans they had discussed earlier.

"It's quite alright sir," Murdoch said calmly. "It's just that he could have ruined the photo-making process and I might have had it to do all over again. But no harm done – I was not at a stage that is light sensitive," he explained.

Meyers looked disappointed, indicating to Murdoch that Meyers also suspected Murdoch was examining hidden plans – That he knew Murdoch likely had such plans. "Sorry Murdoch," he said, taking a puff on his cigar, "I didn't even know for sure you were in here… I was looking for you to …"

"Yes, what is it you want Meyers?" Murdoch asked.

Meyers stalled for time, taking note of the photos. "This handsome young boy – He is the one you and the good doctor did not adopt, is that right?" he asked.

Murdoch was not quite sure why he felt so irritated by the question, perhaps because it annoyed him that Meyers knew so much about his private life, or that he didn't like to think that their own son was any more valuable than their two adopted daughters, but whatever the reason, he felt his jaw clench with anger. "What is it you want Meyers?" he asked again.

Meyers inhaled his cigar once more, then looking for a place to flick the ashes. Murdoch frowned and offered him a cup. "Well Murdoch, I believe your country needs to know why you think the U.S. of A is involved with the case of the dead man and the boat. Did you find something on the boat?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Murdoch, turning his attention back to the negatives and readying to complete the last photograph. He said, "I found the plans you took off of my work station yesterday."

"Now Murdoch, I know there is more to it than that. I checked those plans myself. There is nothing there to suggest the man was from the USA," he insisted.

Murdoch somewhat smugly said, "I did not say that the man was from America … Although I suppose you have reason to believe he was."

Meyers appeared to decide that Murdoch had some new information and he was not happy with having him get more without including Meyers in it. He sighed and said, "Look Murdoch, I'll give you what information that I can … There are limits to what I can tell you in the interest of …"

Both the Inspector and Murdoch finished, "Of national security."

"Yes," Meyers said. "The man was from the USA, yes. He was working on weapons – weapons to be used in war. The world is in a great deal of unrest. The winds of war are picking up. Canada would like to be the one with his inventions – like the boat he was working on… What did you make of that Murdoch?" Meyers asked.

"It was a means of surviving a torpedo hit," Murdoch answered.

"Ah yes, that's what I thought… Brilliant idea." Meyers stated.

Murdoch looked Meyers in the eye and said, deciding to help the man at least with this piece of information. He explained, "On paper, I guess. But it was flawed – the torpedo is too likely to blast through the aluminum layer meant to contain the pressurized air, among other problems."

"Whatever you say Murdoch. I'll take your word for it that this plan was no good, but there is reason to believe he had many others that would yield an advantage," Meyers pushed.

Murdoch looked at the Inspector.

"Go ahead and tell him Murdoch," the Inspector decided. Murdoch informed Meyers of the other plans and that he had identified the man as Agdar Flate.

Right before he took his leave, Meyers said, "Oh, and Murdoch, I wanted to say that I was sorry to hear about Julia's … misfortune."

William felt his body twitch hearing Meyers call his wife by her given name. It was too familiar, and jealousy erupted within him again. His fingers tightened into fists. He took a deep breath to fight back the emotion. "My wife is greatly missed," he said, drawing attention to their marital relationship, to push the man back.

"Yes," Meyers said, extinguishing his cigar in Murdoch's cup. "Quite a lovely family," he said, once again focusing on the photos of William Jr., Katie, and Murdoch. He continued, "Well, I am sorry to hear about such troubles," and with that he nodded good-bye and headed out.

William finished developing Chelsea's photo. He then went to stationhouse #3 to get Kingsley's post-mortem results – finding death due to the blow to the head, with wood and aluminum in the wound, suggesting accident due to failed experiment rather than murder.

Higgins gave him the list of American weapons companies with the initials "ACA" that worked on weapons. William figured the most likely one to be related to Flate, who came from Norway, was the Aasen Corporation of America in Wisconsin because its founder, Niels Aasen, was Norwegian. He sent Higgins to investigate any connections between Flate and the company.

Constable Crabtree returned with interesting news from Poundset after showing him the photo of Flate– the man who had inquired about arming hot air balloons with weapons was not Flate. However, the man spoke with an Irish accent and he had a scar under his right eye. Thinking the man's Irish accent suggested that he would be Catholic, William took the description to his own church and then two other local Catholic churches. One of them led him to the docks, where a man with a scar under his right eye and with an Irish accent was believed to live and work. William went to Jeffries, the Toronto Harbor Master, with the description. Jeffries denied knowing the man but Murdoch sensed he was frightened and pushed. Finally Jeffries admitted he had seen the man at a local brothel. He gave him the name of a call girl he knew he frequently visited – Jane.

The clerk at the front desk of the 'motel' told the detective that there might be a man meeting that description that came there, but he couldn't say for sure. He told him that Jane was in. The same clerk quickly called up to Jane's room right after Murdoch was out of earshot. "Tell Brogan there's a detective heading up there right now," he warned into the phone.

William knocked. A woman's voice called, "Come in." William opened the door to see a young woman wearing only bloomers. She gave William a look up and down his body, "Well hello there gorgeous," she said and turned her back to him, then seductively pulling down her bloomers.

William felt a jolt through his body – surging with both lust and discomfort. "I'm afraid you have the wrong idea," he said, "I'm married … and I'm here on police business."

She approached him, stopping very close to him and playing with his tie, then opening his jacket to stroke his badge. "Oh good-looking, I don't have the wrong idea. No sir, I'm sure I can make you forget all about that wife," she said. She stood on her toes and kissed his lips.

William pushed her back. "Click," he heard as he felt the metal poke against the back of his head. The sound was definitely that of a gun being cocked.

The woman kissed him again, this time biting his lower lip. "Oh, I like this one. Let me play with him for a while first," the woman said to the man behind William with the gun. William considered his options. The woman slid her hands down his chest to his stomach and pushed her tongue to his lips. The gun jerked harder against his head. Her hands slid down to his trousers, brushing against his groin. "Oh yes, you do like it," she slyly said. William began to turn as he swung his leg back to try to trip the man behind him as he pushed back against him. The last thing he remembered was thinking that the immense pain he felt on the back of his head was not accompanied by the sound of a shot, so he would probably live.

 _Oh, his head hurt. "William!" Julia called out as she rolled him over onto his back. Katie was crying behind her. He wanted to say, "I'm sorry," but he couldn't get the words out. "Maybe it's a dream," he thought, "I promised not to die."_

William was woken up by Alan Clegg. Although he still felt foggy, he could tell Clegg was complaining about his presence here. Clegg insisted, "Meyers told me he had closed this case Murdoch! What are you doing here?!"

Rubbing his head and trying to stabilize his stance, William replied, "Meyers closed the Flate case. I'm on different case – looking for a man who wanted to arm hot air balloons with guns and bombs. Clegg demanded they return to the station and he speak with both Meyers and the Inspector.

In the carriage ride back to the station William checked the time on his pocket watch. It was too late for him to be able to visit Julia. A surge of regret flowed through him. He so wanted to see her, having missed visiting yesterday. He sighed and rubbed his head.

"In a hurry?" Clegg asked.

William had come to be somewhat fond of Meyers, despite his roused jealousy as a result of Meyers' having spent a month pretending to be Julia's husband, but he had never been able to develop such feelings for Clegg. He did not like the man. He decided not to answer him. William's mind flowed back to its usual place – Julia. He had bought her flowers. He sighed again. Hopefully he would at least be able to get home in time to tuck the children into bed.

Back at the station Meyers and Clegg argued over whether or not Murdoch could work on the case. Clegg wanted Flate's body, claiming he was American. He pushed Meyers about giving up "the plans" Murdoch had found. And he insisted that the Irish man with the scar Murdoch was looking for was to be left alone as he was an American spy working under cover. Meyers, for his part, argued that these people and plans, etc. were in Canada, and the Canadian government and officials, like himself and Murdoch, therefore had a right to investigate any and all of it. Further, this was a murder investigation. William stayed quiet about the fact that Flate was not murdered. The two men never came to agree, but Murdoch agreed to tread softly on his investigation into the "Irish man with the scar," as he was forced to call him because Clegg would not reveal his spy's "name." Murdoch never admitted to having found any plans.

The last thing William did before heading home was to call over Jackson and Crabtree. They agreed to help him try to find the Irish man with the scar at the Catholic church where he had been recognized this Sunday. They would each attend a different mass.

"Show us again, sir," George requested.

His sigh indicated that William was becoming frustrated. He slowly moved through the motions of making the sign of the cross once more. Jackson got the order right but held his hand in a rigid fist, while George constantly went to a shoulder before he went to his stomach. "Jackson, touch your thumb to your fist two fingers like this – Imagine you dipped them in water and you are dabbing it on each of the four points… Better. Now, Jackson, you teach George. I'm going home," William instructed.

"But sir, what about the mother, the father and the holy … what is it, ghost or spirit?" George asked.

"Just mumble quietly," William said.

He checked to make sure he had the photos in his pocket and he took the flowers. Then he grabbed his hat and hurried to his bicycle to get home. Images of the woman, Jane, kept invading his thoughts. Much to his shame, he had been aroused by her. He couldn't shake the feeling that it felt like a betrayal to Julia. That, added to the fact that he had not been able to visit her for the past two days in a row, was filling him with guilt. He tried to remember the dream he had had this morning about making love with Julia, hoping it would remind him of how lovely it felt to be in love with her. Bang, crash, and flickering light drenching her skin – Yes, there it was. They made love during a thunderstorm. Now he remembered. He felt better.

Voices could be heard upstairs, the children were still awake. He brought the flowers and photos with him to show them and he hurried up the stairs. Once he was spotted, the children ran and jumped into his arms. "Daddy! You're home!" they exclaimed.

"Thanks Claire-Marie," William said. Then he stood up and looked down at his children. "Did everybody finish brushing their teeth?" he asked. They all had, except Chelsea had spit out the toothpaste and run to him before she was finished. He told William Jr. and Katie to head back downstairs and pull out their cards for their mother. He stayed up to help Chelsea finish up. Claire-Marie said goodnight.

William put the flowers down on the coffee table and gave each child their own photo. They admired each other's pictures and then tucked them into the cards. Katie asked about the red roses her father had brought home. "Oh, those were for your mother, but I got tied up at work and couldn't go visit her today," he explained. "I thought you and Chelsea might want them," he added, offering the bouquet to his little daughter.

"Oh yes Daddy!" she said excitedly. She smelled them and then placed them in her sister's face to let her smell them too. "Don't they smell good Chelsea?" she asked. Chelsea nodded. Then an idea hit her. "Daddy?" she asked, "Can we use the petals to glue them into Mommy's cards? They will look and smell so delightful!"

William couldn't help but smile. He marveled at how much their children sometimes reminded him of Julia or himself. " _Delightful,_ " he thought, _"She is certainly her mother's daughter."_ "Now that is a wonderful idea," he said. "I think you will need some special glue. I have some downstairs." The cards looked and smelled beautiful.

The children began to head upstairs to get tucked into bed. After the two girls were out of the room, William Jr. asked his dad to read what he had written to his mother. It said, "Mom, I miss you so that when I breathe it hurts. It feels like I won't be able to breathe again until you get home. And, when I try to fall asleep, you are the last thing I think of before my mind slips into the dark. And then you are the first thing I think of when I wake up. I worry about you missing us too. I know you do. Does it hurt when you breathe too? Your son, William Jr."

William closed the card and handed it to his son. "Yes, you have said it very well. Your mother will know exactly how you feel. You have opened up and shown how much you miss her. She will know. She will love it," he shared.

The young boy smiled. "Thanks Dad," he said, wrapping his arms around him for a hug.

"O.K., up to bed… where you will have those last thoughts of your mother, just like me," William said, standing.

"Does that happen to you too?" William Jr. asked as they headed up the stairs.

"Yes, son, Yes it does," William said.

Later that night William woke up after having had another dream where Julia's body was floating in the water again. He got up and took a hot shower, hoping it would soothe him. Memories of their making love in the shower flowed over him along with the hot water. _"Bittersweet,"_ he thought, _"So wonderful and at the same time so painful to lose."_ Somewhat more relaxed and comforted, William crawled back into bed. Images of Julia trying to sleep in a small, secluded bed, tossing and turning, alone, played in his mind as he tried once more to fall asleep. He felt his eyes swell up, he swallowed to chase the feeling away. How it broke his heart to think of her suffering so. He imagined kissing her goodnight. She was the last thing he thought of that night.

Tucked under him, her breath rolling over his ear, she moaned. He was deep inside of her. She was writhing with lust. "Oh yes," she cried out. "Oh my … William," she cried out again. Her rhythm slowed and she moaned once more. He felt her, warm and tight around him, explode into ripples urging him even deeper inside of her. Oh, he felt it beginning, he held his breath and waited for the surge – And yes, it exploded, flooding his every cell with pleasure. He filled her, touching a blissful place inside that tied them together. "Mmm," she rumbled in his ear. Slowly he realized he was awake. She was the first thing he thought of each morning, it was true.

Over breakfast, they planned their visit. They would bring the cards with the photos. William told each child that they could choose three roses, whatever color they wanted. He already knew Katie wanted to get pink ones. Chelsea wanted pink too. William Jr. chose red. William thought white ones would look best with the pink and red flowers already in the bunch. In the flower shop, the children spotted some chocolates and hopped up and down to convince William to buy them too.

When the carriage arrived, William Jr. read the sign out loud, "Don Jail." As they walked towards the building Katie asked, "Did Mommy break the law? Did she do something bad, Daddy?" All the children seemed to hold their breath.

William stopped walking and huddled them together. Everyone knew this was important. He had already answered this question quite a few times, but actually seeing that their mother was in a prison was shaking them, bringing a rise in their doubts. "Your mother did _**not**_ do something bad, but she did break a law. The law she broke is a bad law that hurts many, many people. It is an unjust law, and by breaking it your mother helped lots of people," he answered. They nodded. They had needed to be reassured.

William and the three children were brought into the prison visiting room to wait a few minutes before Julia was brought in. The children sat at a table near the door where their mother would enter. William stood. There were already many women prisoners and visitors in the room. William took a quick look around. Fortunately, he didn't see anyone he recognized. The door opened, and Julia was brought in by a male guard. She was wearing a gray dress. Her hair was down. Her eyes caught his.

The children jumped out of their seats and dashed to their mother. Julia held it together to greet and love her children before she would give William his hug. He could see she had black eye and a cut lip. The look she had given him told him she was suffering. He waited. She hugged and kissed each child, glowed over their gifts for her, and settled them into seats around a table where they would have their visit. Then she said, "Now, I need to talk to your Daddy for a minute, O.K?"

She ran and dove into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, causing him to take a step back. He took her tightly in his arms. Her face tucked into his neck, he heard her breath, her voice, she was collapsing into tears.

"Hey there," he said tenderly. He backed a few more steps to bump his back into the wall and take her farther from the children, as alone as was possible in a crowded room of visitors and prisoners.

Her voice was squeaky and high-pitched with pain, but barely above a whisper in his ear. "Oh William, Where were you? I was so worried – I had to fight my fears that you had been killed. I miss you so much. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. If I get two years, I don't think I can make it," she despaired.

He stroked her hair, cupping the back of her head. His heart ached so. Guilt was there, for missing the visits, but it was more of a feeling of hopelessness and desolation that seemed to drown through him. His lips touched her ear in a light kiss and he said, voice sinking into her brain, "I'm so sorry … There's a case, with Meyers. You know how crazy things get when he's involved," he said.

She pulled back a little, taking her own weight, and with eyes down on his chest, she said, "Yes, matters involving national security," followed by a sniffle. William chuckled, prompting her to chuckle as well. The comic relief brought them each to take a deep breath. She lifted her eyes to meet his. He stroked his thumb across her cheek, slowly raising it higher to carefully touch the bruise under her eye. She truly felt so much better just being with him.

He looked concerned. He lowered his thumb to the cut on her lip and brought his other hand to hold her other cheek as well. "What happened?" he asked. Then he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss which then peppered over her cheek and came to flutter upon her ear. His heart filled with the desire to care for her, to warm her and comfort her. He whispered, "Julia I love you so much. It pains me to see you hurt – to not have been able to protect you. Tell me what happened." He pulled back to see her face, "Let's make sure it doesn't happen again."

Julia's face wrinkled, threatening a burst of tears again, but she took a deep breath, fighting to hold them back. "Two women jumped me. One of them had a … weapon, kind of like a knife. She … I blocked her first attempt to stab me with it, but the other woman hit me and knocked me to the ground. Another prisoner helped me, and we fought…" Julia hesitated and the slightest smile curved at the edges of her mouth. William anticipated her upcoming joke, feeling a bump of hope and love in his heart. "You should see the other gal," she teased. She was rewarded with his laugh – Oh how she loved his laugh. She took another deep breath and went back to telling the story, "The guards got to us and took them away… Um, the warden came to see me later. He said one of them, Beth Tipton, had been arrested by you, William." William nodded, he recognized the name and remembered the case – a telegraph operator who killed to keep her money-making scheme going. He had been courting Enid Jones at the time. Julia went on, "Um, actually, there are very many women in this jail that have been put here by you." He nodded again, he wasn't surprised. "I've seen Irene, the young girl who killed the "Dracula" victim, remember?" she asked. He nodded again. "And the warden said there were quite a few more," she said.

"I'll go see him," William said. "Julia … You are going to have to lay low. It's just too dangerous for you to be with the other prisoners. I mean, solitary, um, well hopefully we can find a way to have you be able to interact with some of the prisoners – women who I clear as not being a risk, I guess," he said, wrinkling up the corner of his mouth, suggesting he was still unsure – He was trying to work something out in his mind. "I'm sorry, being more alone will add to your suffering – It will be more lonely, more boring. But we need to keep you safe," he concluded, looking deeply into her eyes, asking if she agreed.

"Yes, I'll have to ride out the storm," she said, her voice low and sad. A tear slid down her cheek. He brushed it away. "It's just that it could be so long, William – Years," she added.

William turned to start to head back towards the table and said, "The sentencing is only two days away, we'll know soon enough."

She took his hand and turned him to face her, bringing him to a halt, "William, I'm really scared. I think they will want to make an example of me – Take advantage of my commonly being in the newspapers to scare others away from teaching women about contraception. I think they will give me the full two years."

William took her face in his hands and firmly held her eyes. He answered her worries, "Julia, the Chief inspector put in a good word for you – You are needed as Toronto's head coroner… It will count for something. I really think so," he said, his tone firm and confident. She sighed, feeling his optimism take a bit of a hold in her gut. "You visit with the children. I'll go talk to the warden … Um, Julia, talk to Katie… She, um, she's been having nightmares – that she finds you dead on the floor, like what happened with her mother before she went into the orphanage," he requested.

"Oh. I'm not surprised, I guess. Such a hard life at such a young age…" Julia said. After another sigh she added, "This is going to be hard on all of us…" She seemed to think of something she wanted to say, pulling William into a halt again, "William, I'm so sorry, so sorry that my political… ideas have cost us so much pain… I…"

He slid a hand behind the small of her back and pulled her in close to him. She saw romance and love in his eyes, it kindled joy in her. "Julia Ogden, don't you ever apologize for your dogged dedication to making the world a better place, for it is that very spark of life, that rebellious bravery, that so strongly pulls my heart to yours," he said. Their kiss was heated and deep, especially considering William's reluctance to demonstrate such passion in public. Julia's insides were ignited with both desire and delight. She was so madly in love with this man – and he so madly in love with her, still after all these years. After the kiss broke off he added, "But perhaps, after you get out, we could focus on fighting to change the unjust law rather than breaking it?"

Julia wrapped her arms around his neck and teased, "I will have to consider it. I do so miss making love with my husband," she said, whispering in his ear, "And I do believe there are some things worth sacrificing for."

"And making love with me is one of them?" William asked.

"Yes," she replied, "Among other things, like being there to be with our children."

The children and Julia talked, showering each other in much needed care and intimacy. They were all able to share how hard it was to be without their mother – and she without them. She helped Katie with her nightmares, normalizing them, but also reassuring her that she was not going to die and that she would be coming home eventually – and they would visit as much as possible too. Katie told her mother, and her brother and sister too, that her father had told her that when he was a boy he had found his mother dead too. Julia added that he had been eight years old when that happened. William Jr. said it was just like him now. "That probably affects your Daddy a little bit too – Makes him worry more too," she had said.

Before William returned, the children asked if she was mad at Daddy, or if they were fighting, because he had spent most nights on the couch – and they knew this happened when their parents were arguing. Julia reassured them that she and their father were not fighting or mad at each other. Instead, she suggested, it was probably that Daddy has more memories of being with her when he is in their bed, where she would usually be with him, and since now she is not there, it makes him notice more how much he misses her. He probably just sleeps better on the couch where he doesn't have as many memories. The children were sure he was missing her very, very much. They said that she would see for herself when she read his card. She said she planned on saving the cards for when she was alone. She had written notes to each of them as well.

When William got back, he was relieved to tell Julia that she would be able to have some time each day with a few of the inmates – the woman who had helped her when she was attacked and a few others, for a while in the yard outside and probably a meal or two as well. She wouldn't be completely isolated and she would be safe.

The family talked and laughed and cried together for a while until the guards ordered everyone to say their good-byes, visiting hours would be over soon. William explained to the children that the guards would take their mother away before they let them leave. He asked them to talk about what they wanted to do for the rest of the day while he said good-bye to their mother.

William escorted Julia over to the same wall as earlier, trying to increase their privacy. He placed his back against the wall and pulled his wife close to him. He placed his hands lightly on her hips.

Julia stroked his tie and his collar. Keeping her eyes focused on her hands' explorations she asked, "Um, William, the children asked if I was mad at you. They thought we were fighting. Why would they think that?"

William took one of her curls in his fingers, playing with it. He noticed his body reacting to her closeness. "Oh, I think I know why… Um, I have been sleeping on the couch," he explained. Julia lifted her eyes to meet his, letting him see her concern. William wrinkled his face, showing his acceptance of the fact that he would need to reveal something to her. He took a deep breath and said, "I miss you more when I'm in the bed. Um, I have bad dreams."

Julia's hands slid down to his stomach, "Oh, I see," she said. "Like Katie's?" she asked, implying she suspected he was also subconsciously dealing with his loss of her and wrapping it up with his history of finding his mother dead.

His hand slid under her hair to pinch and glide across her ear. It caused her insides to stir. Sadness slid onto his face. He said, "Yes. I know the situation magnifies the intensity of my concerns – William Jr. being the same age I was when my mother died, and your absence …" He sighed, "Sleeping has been difficult," he said.

"For me too," she shared. "But quite often my thoughts are of delightful memories – It is not only gloom and doom, hmm?" she said, asking if it was the same for him. As he answered her, she slid her hand back to his chest, rubbed firmly against it hunting for his nipple.

"I seem to live in my memories of being with you, Julia," he answered.

She had found what she was looking for and pinched his nipple, becoming more and more aroused as it grew and hardened between her fingers. The sensations her actions stirred in him were immensely potent. "Julia," he said, his voice sounding lower and dry with lust, "You need to stop that."

She slid her hand over to torture his other nipple, quickly finding it under his jacket and coaxing it with her fingers as well. "But I like it too," she said seductively, placing her lips dangerously close to his. She kissed him. Her mouth swam softly over his, her tongue pressed between his lips, its velvety touch inciting a flame in him. She felt his breath, warm and strong, burst across her cheek. He was losing control.

Suddenly the room flipped and spun as he lifted her up and rolled their position, pushing her back roughly against the wall. Julia's womb wrenched tightly with desire. His tongue pressed deep into her and, as William drove his mouth against hers in such a familiar and irresistible rhythm, her arms locked around him and pulled him as closely to her as possible. Under their kiss, deep in her throat, Julia quietly moaned with desire. He felt her weight grow heavy in his arms as she weakened, opening more to him. William's groin jolted, his want for her nearly driving him crazy. It was powerful – too powerful. He broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against the wall behind her. His breath, rushed and strong, flowed over her neck, seemingly captured under her curls, making it seem private and close.

Julia's voice penetrated deep into his brain, warming his ear. "We have to," she needed to take a breath before continuing. She turned, bringing her lips deeper into his neck and finished, "We have to remember where we are." Their hearts pounded in their chests, the room spun as they each tried to bring its movement to a halt.

"I'm trying," William said, still struggling to gain control.

Julia chuckled, dropping her head back against the wall, finding more oxygen. She slid her fingers around the back of his neck, tenderly scratching him as her fingers caressed through his hair. "Oh William," she said, "I imagine being with you like this constantly. It sustains me."

She felt his breath rumble past her ear once more. The dizziness was slowing. "Yes, it is the same with me," William said.

Julia took a deep breath and said, "William Henry Murdoch, with all of my heart and soul, with every cell in my body, I love you…" She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her hands firmly into his back and pulled him into a hug as she added, "I love you so much that it hurts."

William moved back, pulling her softly away from the wall and taking her more completely in his arms. "And I you," he said. William reached up and pushed her hair back to free his face from its cocoon and took a deep breath. "Now, can we talk about something else for a minute?" he asked.

"Something less … arousing, yes?" she suggested.

William exhaled, "Yes," he answered, prompting Julia to giggle. Love burned in his heart at the sound. He laughed too.

Julia took a deep breath, signaling a change of subject and said, "I noticed a laceration, and a rather large bump on the back of your head William?" she pushed for an explanation.

He sighed and moved back, allowing their eyes to meet. His face wrinkled up like she had noticed it does when he is going to admit to something. "Yes," he said, "it is why I was unable to visit you yesterday."

"Hmm," she replied, "So you were lying unconscious on a floor somewhere." He nodded. "Well I guess I was right to worry then," she claimed.

William stood up taller, taking responsibility for his poor judgment. "Yes, you were. I'm sorry … I should not have been alone," he admitted.

"I just lied to Katie … I promised her we weren't going to die," she urged.

Nodding his head to show he understood the implications he replied, "I did the same thing. It felt like I had to – She needed to be relieved of the burden of worry."

Julia wrapped her arm in his and started their walk back to the table. "I agree … but let's try to be more careful, hmm," she requested.

He leaned over towards her and said, "Yes … more careful."

They each sat at the table. William Jr. leaned in and said quietly, as if he were sharing a secret, "Mom, everyone was watching Daddy and you kissing."

"Oh," Julia replied, looking at her husband with some concern. She then turned her attention to each of the children and asked, "Did it embarrass you?"

Katie said excitedly in a whisper, "Oh no Mommy! I'm proud that my Mommy and Daddy love each other more than other parents – It's like Cinderella and Prince Charming!"

Julia looked at William, seeing the slightest blush, but drawn to joy when he laughed.

The guards took Julia away.

 _William and Julia had not noticed, but Cecily McKinnon (previously the Toronto Harbor Master who had put a hit out on Inspector Brakenreid a decade ago) was brought into the visiting room shortly after Julia arrived. The man visiting her had a scar under his right eye. He spoke with a thick Irish accent. McKinnon greeted him, "Good afternoon dear brother." They had a great deal of business to discuss. She pointed Murdoch and his wife out to him. He told her he recognized Murdoch, that he had been looking for him – but he had knocked him unconscious. He was sure Murdoch never saw him._

 _McKinnon took a deep breath, looking Murdoch up and down lustfully. "The man really is quite attractive – Catholic too," McKinnon said. She sighed, "He will have to die… But you cannot be the one who kills him. No, that must be Isabel. If anyone gets caught, it needs to be her." She looked over at her brother. Brogan was eyeing Julia. He turned his attention to wiping the thick white dust off of his jacket and pants. "Oh dear brother," McKinnon said, "She has to die too I'm afraid. I was hoping that crazy Beth Tipton would do it for us, but now she is Isabel's too. Make sure to assist her, but make sure you can't be implicated in any way. We have a deal, she escaped with my help, and she gets our help killing Murdoch and his coroner-wife. She takes the risks and they are out of the way – unable to foil my escape. They must be dead in two weeks – Inspector Brakenreid too. Tell Isabel Dr. Ogden is likely to be released Monday – she's a TOFF and she's in with the Constabulary. She should get it done immediately so Ogden has no time to get her sea-legs back before she encounters the "trap." Have the plan ready to go and if Ogden is set free have Isabel implement it immediately."_

" _Now, to the business… How did the test of the anti-torpedo boat go?" McKinnon asked, noticing Murdoch leave the room._

 _Brogan looked scared. He feared his sister's wrath. "Bad news I'm afraid. The boat failed and Flate is dead," he blurted out._

" _You imbecile! We needed him to get the designs finished before the buyers need proof that we can deliver," she yelled, quickly crouching forward and lowering her voice._

" _Charlie claims he knows what to do with the few things left to do. It will be fine," Brogan said._

" _How about the derigible? Is it armed with the bomb? We will need it for Brakenreid soon," McKinnon asked._

" _Yes, that was done before the boat," he answered._

" _Alright, that's enough for now," she concluded. "Go now before Murdoch gets back," she instructed. McKinnon stood and approached the guard to be returned to her cell, her brother walked to the other door – a faint trail of black ink could be seen in his footprints as he walked away. McKinnon barely made it out before she saw Murdoch returning. She made sure her back was to him as the guard opened the door to the corridor back to the cells._

After their visit, William and the children went to have ice-cream, the unanimous decision made by the children while they waited for their parents to say good-bye to each other. Over their ice-cream William talked to them about how their mother ended up having to spend time in prison. William saw it as a good opportunity for a life-lesson. "Your mother has a strong drive to fix things she sees that are wrong in the world. It is something that I love about her. She is very brave – Much braver than most people. She stands up for things she believes in… But, remember what I taught you about surviving in a thunderstorm?" he asked, pausing to see if he had their attention. They nodded. "The taller something is, the more likely it is to get struck by lightning, right?"

"Yes Dad, that's why you don't go under trees even if you are getting soaked by the rain," William Jr. explained.

"Excellent!" his father exclaimed, "Well, your mother tends to stand so tall in fighting injustices that she stands out, and sometimes that means she is the one that will get struck down. That's what happened – Your Mommy took a chance and courageously took action to help people suffering as a result of a law. She stood up against that law, drawing attention to herself. She got hit and now she is paying for breaking that law by being in prison.

"How long will she be punished?" Chelsea asked.

William took some of his ice-cream to stall for time to think. After a deep breath he said, "Well it could be quite long, but there's a good chance that the time will get shortened. Um, I'm sorry to say that it is possible that Mommy might be in prison for two years …"

Panic spread across the young ones' faces. "Two years!" Katie exclaimed. "Chelsea will be my age when she gets home!" she finished.

William reached over to hold her arm and calmly said, "Breathe Katie. It will probably not be that long … And even if it is, we will be alright. I promise… We will find out in two days, on Monday." He wasn't sure it was the right thing to do to tell them – he was trying to protect them from the shock if the worst happened.

After dinner, they read their mother's notes. Everyone felt loved and missed.

That evening, William got a call from the Chief Inspector. He said that he was able to get the sentence lowered – likely to be about one year, maybe even a little less. William thanked him, but in his heart he felt saddened that it would be that long. He tried to tell himself how much better it was than Julia getting two years. The Chief Inspector explained that it was important for Julia to admit that she was wrong to break the law and that she feels remorse and won't do it again. William would tell her tomorrow.

They played and rough-housed until it was time for the children to go to bed. The little ones fell off to sleep quickly, feeling happy in knowing they were going to visit their mother tomorrow too.

William used the time to work out, lifting weights. He thought about Julia stroking his chest, pinching his nipples earlier, evoking a pang of arousal to spread through him once again. Ever since Julia had brought her concerns about being attracted to another man – Inspector Jack Robinson, a few years ago (Story: Competition), William worked hard to stay in good shape. It helped him feel confident and he was sure Julia appreciated it. After a shower he read a science magazine. He was excited to find it had an article on weapons technology. Wishing he felt a little more tired, he decided he'd best try to get some sleep. He had the early mass at the Catholic church where, hopefully, the Irish man with the scar would show up. William chuckled as he remembered George and Jackson trying to cross themselves. " _Hopefully they won't draw too much attention to themselves … That never helps an undercover operation go well_ ," he thought.

William went directly to the couch, planning on avoiding the challenges before they even began. He said a prayer before settling under the sheets. He prayed for himself and Katie to be free of nightmares as they slept, and he prayed for Julia. Once again she was the last thing he thought of before he fell asleep.

The dream was both odd and stimulating. He was pinned against the wall by the prostitute he had encountered on Friday, right before he had gotten hit in the head. She admired his muscular chest. He was aroused. He fought his desire to touch her. Before he could do anything about it though, he felt his hands take hold of her hips, but then they were Julia's hips instead. Now it was Julia who had pinned him to the wall and was stroking and kissing him. He felt as if he was about to explode as she pinched his nipples and so deliciously thrust her tongue in his mouth. William moaned, causing him to stir in his sleep. He became aware of a bright light all around them. They were up on a stage with the stage-lights glaring in his eyes, rendering his view of Julia to consist only of her silhouette – her beautiful curls flaring out in all directions. He turned her around to push her back against the wall and penetrated her, completely aware that the audience was watching. He heard them gasp. He pumped deep and hard, unable to stop. Julia moaned, begged him to hurry. He rushed to touch the deepest part of her – pound against it deep within her. The dam burst open, her hips thrust quickly against his – he poured into her, drowning them both with a flood of warm, wet pleasure. He heard what he thought was applause, but slowly he realized it was just his pounding heart. He turned to see the audience. When he turned back Julia was gone. Panic set in – he'd lost her. She was gone. "Julia!" he called out. He fell to his knees with despair. "No! Julia please…No," he cried.

The sound of his own voice pulled him to awaken. He sat up, letting his surroundings settle around him. He was on the couch. It was just a dream. William took a deep breath, noticing his heart was pounding. His attention turned to the large living-room window. It was a full-moon, the light bright white light tested his memory of daylight in the same room. William reached up to rub his forehead. " _The stage-light_ ," he thought.

He needed to clean up again. His mind raced through the dream – analyzing and feeling while he walked to the downstairs bathroom. " _Making love to Julia again… magnificent!_ " he thought, " _And our romantic antics in the visiting room bordered on being on a stage."_ So quickly the nausea from the guilt upset his stomach as he remembered his body's lust-filled response to the other woman, both in his dream and in reality as well. But then the grief re-appeared, erasing every other emotion with its power. Loss, so much loss, he wondered how people ever coped with such loss. Loss like the loss of a mother by a young child, or a soul-mate by their lover.

He decided to check on the children, warmed and reassured by the feelings of love in his heart at the sight of each child's sleeping face. He only wished Julia could be comforted in the same way. The image of her alone in a prison bed took center stage in his mind. His heart hurt for her. He tried to remember a time he laughed with her to lighten his mood, to help allow sleep. There it was, also in the visiting room – Julia's voice said quietly and close, "Something less … arousing, yes?" William smiled as he imagined responding in his mind, _"Yes, definitely something less arousing."_ He fell asleep with Julia on his mind.

After William attended the mass at the Catholic church, failing to spot the Irish man with the scar, he took the children to see Julia at the Don Jail again. During the visit he told Julia what the Chief Inspector had said. He could tell that she was also unhappy with the thought of being sentenced with a year. She roused herself to appear fine, he figured more for the children than for him. He explained the importance of her response when the judge asked if she had anything she wanted to say before sentencing. Julia practiced, "I will say that I knew I was breaking the law, but had mistakenly believed that it was acceptable to do so because the law was unjust, leading to much suffering of women, children and families – suffering that I felt called to relieve. I have now come to see that it was wrong to do so, for if anyone who believed a law to be unjust broke that law, mayhem would break out. There would be some people believing it was right to murder or rape. I understand the importance of adhering to the law now." She looked at her husband.

"I think you have the idea… Perhaps add that you regret breaking the law and would not do it again," he said.

Julia dropped her eyes, having more trouble with this part. She sighed and then agreed. "William, do you think I should try to use some powder to cover up the bruises on my face?" she asked.

He thought for a moment and then replied, "No. Actually I think they will help – demonstrating how dangerous it is for you in here." He focused on her face and added, "If your hair was up, the bruises would be even more obvious."

"Yes," she said, "But I need some help with that. They do not allow any pins. I have nothing to use to put it up." She pulled it back, considering braiding it.

"I know how to pull it up … In a French braid. I used to put the horses' tails up in mud-knots. All I would need is a way to pull the hair up through the braid on the back of your head…" he said, turning his attention to searching the room for possible implements. "Any string or…" he said as his eyes suddenly stopped on Katie's riding boots, "Or laces."

Julia joked that he thought of his wife as if she were a 'horse' needing a 'mud-knot.' "I am far from flattered husband," she complained.

William's mouth curled into a sly smile. Standing behind her, starting to loosely braid her hair, he leaned down close to her and teased, "There was a time, wife, many years ago, that you were quite happy to compare ourselves to a prize mare and a prize stallion."

Her insides stirred with the memory. They had been discussing H.G. Wells' ideas on eugenics and things had turned steamy as they each imagined the sexual energy of a prize stallion mounting and mating a prize mare. She giggled and conceded, "Yes. I remember. It was a very stimulating conversation."

William used Katie's bootlace to pull the long braid up through the hair on the back of Julia's head and tied it in place. She reached up and pulled a few strands of curls free. Everyone agreed it looked great. William reminded her that he would be in the courtroom – to look for him when she was brought in.

When it came time to go, Julia again asked the children to stay at the table while she said good-bye to their father. With his wife's back to the wall he asked, "Does the window in your cell face south?" She was not sure. He clarified, "Can you see the moon at night?" he asked. She said yes, it was full last night. "Good," he said, "At 10:00 tonight go watch it – I will be sure to be looking at it at the same time. I'll be out on our porch – I'll sing my song to you – Remember?" (Story: Journal Journeys).

Julia leaned her head in close to intimately sing in his ear, "Just a schoolboy, not alone. There's another not yet known. She's my match in every way. I'll be with her, oh someday." He felt a thrill spread through him as he realized how truly touched she had been by his song – a song he'd written with the knowledge that he had loved her all his life.

"Yes," he whispered back.

"But William, I don't have any way to know when it is 10:00. There are no clocks and I do not have a timepiece," she said. William gave her his pocket watch. "But Liza gave you this," Julia said, concerned that he was trusting her with something so valuable to him and from before he had even met her.

He pressed the watch into her hand. "We can be together, both looking at the same moon, at the same time," was all he said. He kissed her. "Until ten o'clock then," he said, as he placed an arm behind her back and walked her back to the table.

After stopping off at the house to replace Katie's bootlace, William and the children went to the Club for lunch before Katie had her riding lesson. The judge that had heard Julia's case, and was sentencing her tomorrow, stopped by their table. William rushed to stand up, placing his napkin down on the table, to greet him. He quickly introduced the children.

"You and Dr. Ogden have lovely children," he said. He told William that he had been thinking quite a bit about his wife's sentence – that there were many factors to consider.

After the judge left, William explained who he was to the children. "He seems nice," Chelsea said.

"Do you think he likes Mommy?" William Jr. asked.

William explained that his decision about how long their mother got sentenced for was not likely to be influenced by whether or not he liked her. The children pressed him to say whether he thought the judge liked her or not anyway. They seemed happy when he speculated that he thought he liked their mother.

A little while later, Meyers stopped by the table. He asked to take seat. He smoked his cigar and spoke with the children. William thought about how charming he could be sometimes. The children seemed quite comfortable with him.

William Jr. made a mistake and said that he knew who Meyers was – "You're the man Mommy went to Russia with," he said. Meyers gave William a look of concern. William jumped to apologize about the breach of a secret and national security. "The children saw Russian money in Julia's purse when she got back," he explained, "They were excited about the strange and novel-looking money. We tried to convince them to forget about knowing where their mother went, but …"

Meyers asked, "Well now that's all well and good Murdoch, but how do they know about me?"

William suggested that they must have overheard himself and Julia talking.

Meyers pushed, seeming to suggest that he was important to Julia, and to imply that he knew William had been jealous of Meyers' relationship with her. He smugly said, "So, I was a topic of conversation then."

William felt his fists form again. He admitted that there was some talk of Julia's time with Meyers.

Seeming satisfied to have completely gotten under William's skin, Meyers said, as he prepared to take his leave, "There is no one in the vicinity, so I wouldn't worry about our secret getting out."

Once they were alone again, William struggled with his annoyance with Meyers and his anger at his son. He made an effort to breathe and cool his head before he spoke to the boy. William Jr. looked very worried. After a few moments of highly uncomfortable silence, William addressed the children, "It's alright, but you must try to keep secrets secret – like the secret passageways and tunnels in our house," he whispered. "You know they are there, but you act like you don't know unless you need them," he stressed, making sure to look firmly at each child, receiving a nod before he was satisfied.

Later that night, William prepared the couch for sleep. He was not optimistic about sharing the watching of the moon with Julia, as it was very cloudy. He decided he would go out on the porch anyway, hoping she decided to look out her window at the sky despite the lack of a moon. He sat on the bench for nearly an hour. He was excited, a storm was brewing. He knew that Julia would be excited too. They shared a love of thunderstorms – having established a tradition of making love during them. The energy in the air, the blowing wind, glimmering lightning and booming thunder, and the pounding rain, all seemed to heighten their senses, making them feel more alive and in awe.

Soon the storm raged at full thrust. William stood on the porch, letting the wind blow the cool raindrops into his face. Julia stood at her window. She reached her arm out to feel the wind and rain against her skin. They both imagined what they would do if they were actually together on the porch in the storm:

 **William: Julia suddenly pulled her white nightgown over her head and dropped it on the floor of the porch. She darted down the steps and spun, arms extended out to her sides like wings, out in the pouring rain. He was stunned by her beauty, her outrageousness, watching the breathtaking scene of her naked body dancing so as the lightning flashed to illuminate her gorgeous curves. "Come on William," she called. He felt like he did when he leaped into the balloon to join her so many years ago. Oh how he wanted to go to her – be with her. Finding the courage, pushing thoughts of neighbors seeing out of his mind, he took the plunge. He pulled his pajama top over his head and flung it to the ground. Next he rushed to remove the bottoms. Naked and thrilled he paused at the top of the steps. Julia looked at him there, her face stunningly beautiful as she took in the sight of him, as she felt her heart burn white with love for him. She walked up the steps, reached out and took his hand. It only took the slightest pull. They ran down the steps together. He took her in his arms, kissed her deeply, tasting the rain mix with the flavor of her skin. They quickly became wild with desire for each other. William's mind raced as he tried to think of where he could make love to her. "** _ **No, not on the ground**_ **," he thought. He led her around to the side of the house and pressed her against the wall. The wind blew at his back, flinging the rain roughly against his skin. He covered her, kissed her, sucked on her and nibbled her flesh. She said, louder than usual to be heard over the beating rain and thunder, "Oh my William… I am so glad you built this house… But I have to admit, I never thought we'd make love against the outside of it," she said with a giggle. In between kisses and bites that randomly took various parts of her body, he asked what she liked most about the house he had built for her. Nearly losing her ability to talk as her need for him seemed to drain away her strength and render her spinning out of control, she could only breathlessly say, "The secret passageways." He answered her, as he slid firmly inside of her, "I'm quite fond of your secret passageway as well," he said. He drove deeply into her, urged forward by the power of the storm raging around them. They made love, mixing their moans of pleasure with the wildest sounds of nature.**

 **Julia: She held his eyes. She was trying to convince him. Her mouth was slightly opened, her arousal drawing him closer to her. Never looking away from his face she unbuttoned his pajama top, slid it down over his broad, muscular shoulders. She felt the rain taking his skin as the wind swept up the torrents and sent them blowing sideways into their protected place on the porch. She pulled her nightgown over her head and let it fall, resting on top of his discarded top. He dropped his eyes and they magnetically pulled her into him. Her breath caught. "** _ **Touch,**_ **" she thought, as her ability to speak had deserted her in her dizziness. William's hands plunged into her flesh, pushing, sliding, kneading, her body. He sucked her breast, buried his face between them. She arched back, lifting herself to him. He picked her up and spun her into the front door with a thud. She felt his fingers slip into her wet folds. Hot breath burst out of her lungs, "William," she moaned. She wanted him inside of her. She hurriedly found the string that was holding his pajama bottoms up, keeping them apart. She pulled it, invoking William to moan with anticipation. With the sound she felt her last ounce of control drop away. Weak with need she fell. His arms squeezed strongly against her, he dropped his body lower and lifted her up, only her toes could touch the ground. She felt his pajama bottoms pool at their feet, and his rigid arousal poked between her thighs. He used his knee to push her thighs farther apart. She felt his breath pound against her neck, burrow into her ear, and sink into her brain. Her nostrils flared. "** _ **Please,**_ **" she thought. The tip of him spread her folds. She moaned. "Please William," she cried. He pushed in, up, deeper. "** _ **Oh my god**_ **," she thought as she felt him fill her. Thunder crashed, seeming to drive him even deeper into her. Then the thrusts, powerful thrusts, pushing her closer, closer, closer to the edge. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth. She heard him moan. His rhythm hurried. Deep within her she felt a pause, drawing a breath. Gravity slowly spun, waves took her. Hot pleasure exploded inside of her, flooded every cell with delight. She pumped around him, sucking every last drop out of him for her to savor. Done, still, "Wow," she huskily said in his ear. She dropped her head back against the door, spent and loose. Her heart ponded in her chest so that it rivaled the thrashing rain. His beautiful voice sung in her ear, "I have loved you all my life. You're the one for me. Yes with some sacrifice. Always. Always. Love eternally."**

William sighed, satiated by his poignant imaginings. He sang her his song, as he had promised he would. He used a towel to soak up the raindrops that had found him on the porch and crawled under the sheets on the couch. He needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow he would rise with the children, go to work, and then get to the court for Julia's sentencing by ten. He imagined kissing her goodnight. She was the last thing he thought of that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Monday, August 4, 1913

The Inspector, George, and Murdoch shared a carriage to the courthouse. William found his eyes down on all of the men's shoes – They were quite muddy. Each of them had splashes of mud on the bottom of their trousers as well. The thunderstorms last night had left the streets a sloppy mess. He sighed, thinking that they would probably be late as the horse struggled to drag the fully loaded carriage through mucky the streets. George was explaining to the Inspector how his idea for a suit a man could wear to protect him from a bomb would work. As expected, the Inspector was growing impatient with the man's fantasies. "And what would protect the man's eyes Crabtree? Glass would shatter. If the bomb didn't kill him he'd be blinded!" the Inspector roared.

George looked somewhat defeated, "Well yes, I see your point sir. But perhaps in the future scientists will invent a type of glass that would not shatter, with bullets or bombs, sir." He said, holding on to his dream.

Eyes still focused on the shoes, Murdoch said, "A bigger problem would be the massive weight of the suit. It would need to be made of very heavy material. I believe the man in it would not be able to walk."

"Well there are still some problems to be worked out," George said with a shrug.

"You and your crazy ideas Crabtree," the Inspector growled, shaking his head.

William reached for his pocket-watch to check the time remembering, as he felt its absence, that he had given it to Julia. Turning his gaze to the window, he entertained memories of sitting on their porch last night during the storm, imagining he was with her, and expecting that she was doing the same back at the prison. " _Bittersweet,_ " he thought again. He recognized that his stomach was in knots. He sighed again, attempting to push the worry away. He did not think he could cope with Julia being sentenced to a year in prison, and yet, he knew he would if he had to.

The Inspector had noticed Murdoch's distress. "Try not to fret Murdoch. We'll know soon enough," he said, trying to comfort his star detective and his friend.

William found himself remembering the teachings he had given their children about surviving thunderstorms. " _Tall things are most likely to be struck,"_ he had explained. His mind imagined Julia protesting against the restrictions on contraception, sign held up high in the air. " _She stood tall for what she believed in – and she got struck_ ," he thought. " _Of course, it wasn't the protesting that got her convicted, it was the actual teaching of how to use contraceptives, but the protesting got the adversary's eyes on her…"_ he reasoned as the carriage pulled up to the courthouse.

The place was a madhouse of activity – protesters for legalizing contraceptives were trying to outshout protesters against their legalization. The press was all over the place. The carriage was not able to get right up to the front. They disembarked and walk the extra distance through the mud.

Mere seconds later, the press recognized him and swarmed them. "Detective Murdoch, how does it feel to be back in the same place where your wife was sentenced to hang?" one reporter called out. Cameras clicked from all directions. Another asked, "Detective as a representative of the Constabulary, did you knowingly turn the other way while your wife broke the law?" All three men ducked their heads and picked up the pace, indicating they would not be addressing the press.

They had to join the slow march up the center of the steps as both sides of the steps had been taken over by protesters. They seemed to have formed camps, those supporting contraception on their left, while those against it stood on their right. A woman called from the left, "Tell Dr. Ogden she's our hero!" however she was nearly drowned out by a man's voice from the right. "They should have hung her first time!" William hesitated ever so slightly as he felt his temper rising. George looked over at him and said, "Come on sir," encouraging him to continue on up the steps. Near the top of the steps, a man held out a bible and said, "You are a Catholic man. How can you support what your wife has done?" William sighed, " _You'd never understand,_ " he thought.

Their eyes met the moment he walked in the courtroom. She had been looking for him. He rushed past the artist soon to be sketching his picture. Standing on opposite sides of the barrier they shared a quick kiss. "Ready?" William asked.

"Yes," she said, sounding calm and strong, "I know what to say… But I am so anxious about the final sentence."

He took her face in his hand. He noticed her bruises … and that she was beautiful. He held firmly to her eyes and said, "No matter what the sentence is, we will be alright, Julia. We are strong."

She nodded, "Yes. I know we are." She reached into the pocket of her blue dress and pulled out his watch. He opened his hand. They both watched as she tenderly laid the watch in his palm, coiling the chain into a neat pile above his fingers. "The thunderstorms seemed like they were just for us," she said, intimately, close to his ear.

He found her eyes, "Yes," he agreed.

The court was called to order. William, joined by the Inspector and George, sat two rows back behind Julia and her lawyer. William looked around, noticing a few friends among the standing-room only crowd. He nodded at Dr. Tash. He spotted Paula Gail and her boss, he forgot his name. Ms. Gail was a good friend of Julia's, fighting for the same causes. He also knew her – she was the head of the women's basketball team that was involved in a case a long time ago. She and her boss had supplied women with contraceptives – Julia taught them how to use them. Julia had never given the names of contraceptive suppliers to the authorities. Her reluctance to do so would likely be a factor in the length of her sentence. He spotted Meyers standing in the back. " _Just a little too interested in my wife if you ask me,"_ he thought, pushing down the feelings of jealousy the man's presence had riled.

When the judge asked Julia to stand, and whether she would like to address the court, she replied, "Yes, Your Honor." She took a deep breath and reminded herself to speak loudly. There was a hush in the room, making the pause seem even more pregnant. Julia's voice seemed to echo with an air of importance as she said, "I pleaded guilty to breaking the law. This is because I did so." She paused to take another breath, "Although I now **regret** my decision," Julia paused, hoping her admission to feeling regret would be noticed, "It is because I have come to see it differently. At the time I saw both, a law that I believed to be **unjust** , and many women, as well as their children and families, **suffering** as a result of that same law. As a **doctor** I was called to help those that were suffering, and that meant breaking the law. However, I now see that, as a **citizen** , I am called to uphold the law, even if I feel it is unjust, for if anyone who believed a law to be unjust broke that same law, there would be mayhem. Thus, as a citizen, I am called to follow the law, and that requires allowing the suffering I see. As a good citizen, I will uphold the law while I work to change it. Thank you Your Honor." Julia remained standing.

The crowd rustled into a rumble. One newspaper reporter named Julia, "Citizen Ogden," as he was so touched by her speech.

The Judge banged his gavel on his desk. "We are not finished here," he lectured the crowd. Not only did silence ensue, but it seemed that people held their breath. William saw Julia, however, take a deep breath. He followed her example and took one as well. "There are many factors, besides your statement to the court, that I must consider when determining your sentence," he explained. The Judge took a deep breath and started with one of those factors. "Dr. Ogden, you appear to have several injuries. Were these injuries incurred while serving time in the Don Jail?" he asked.

Firm and loud, her voice rang out, "Yes, Your Honor."

"I have a letter here from the Warden of the Don Jail. He states that another prisoner attempted to kill you – that she had a weapon. Now, I ask you Dr. Ogden, why were you targeted by this woman? Was she a religious zealot, unhappy with your illegal, and in her eyes, immoral actions?" the Judge inquired.

Julia stood up a little taller and said, "She did not inform me of her motives. However, she had been investigated for her involvements in her crimes by my husband …"

The Judge sat back a little and raised his hands up in recognition, "Oh yes, your husband, Detective William Murdoch … He has the highest arrest and conviction rate in Toronto, actually, in all of Canada, does he not?

Coaching herself to sound humble rather than proud, Julia responded, "Yes, Your Honor."

The Judge returned his attention to the Warden's letter and said, "As a matter of fact it says here that there are currently no fewer that eleven female prisoners serving time at the Don Jail who were put there by your husband …" he lifted his eyes to Julia.

"Well yes," she said, "And many partially by myself as well, as I would have been the coroner working most of the cases."

The Judge dropped the letter down on his desk and rested his head in his hand and said, "Now I find that remarkable, that a _**female**_ prisoner could be expected to be safely housed in a jail in which a dozen of her fellow inmates are in there as a result of both her own, and her husband's, actions. Just remarkable…" He picked the letter back up, looked at it and then said, "The Warden of the Don Jail argues that he cannot guarantee your safety if you are to interact with the other inmates."

William's heart began to pump faster, " _Maybe she won't have to serve any time at all!_ " he thought. Julia too felt a surge of optimism build within her.

The Judge once again put the letter back down. He sighed and said, "Now here's the problem, Dr. Ogden, you broke the law. You even admit to breaking the law … And breaking that law calls for up to a two-year sentence _**in prison**_." The Judge paused and seemed to turn to address the crowd. He took a deep breath and continued, "The Don Jail was never meant to house women. And as it is, it is overcrowded. That's why we had a women's section built in the Kingston facility. I am told that now the construction is finished. Dr. Ogden, you, and all the other women, will be transferred to the Kingston Penitentiary in about 2 weeks – you will be safe there. Until then, I see your husband has made arrangements with the Warden of Don Jail to keep you relatively safe there without putting you in isolation."

William's heart sunk. How could it be, that doing something as essential as protecting his wife from harm could be what ended up costing her years in prison? " _Truly, sometimes I seem fated to suffer, no matter how hard I try, and unfortunately, it is often Julia that seems to suffer the brunt of that fate_ ," he thought as he dropped his head in despair and regret.

The Judge had continued talking, explaining that Julia would serve her time with only the next two weeks at Don Jail and then the remainder at the Kingston Penitentiary. The hope had drained out of her. She worked to stay in control of her emotions. William's attention returned to the Judge's words, but there was a buzzing of fear in his head that made them hard to hear.

"There is one final factor I wish to address before I lay down my sentence," the Judge stated, looking out into the crowd standing in the back. (The Inspector noticed that the Judge caught Meyers' eye). "You have served the city of Toronto well, as a coroner and, currently, as the head coroner. Further, I have been informed that you, Dr. Ogden, have acted heroically in the past in protecting Canada's interests. Now that needs to count for something," he said, turning his eyes on her. The Judge turned in his chair, faced directly forward, sat up taller and laid down his sentence, "Dr. Julia Ogden, I sentence you to serve sixty days. Due to the passing of the 3 for 1 law, and your service to date of eight days, it is considered that you have already served 24 days. You have 36 days remaining, 14 or so of which will be served at Don Jail, and the remaining 22 or so to be served at the Kingston Penitentiary." He slammed the gavel down and a bustle of commotion spread through the courtroom.

Relief flooded through Julia. With the Inspector and George close on his heels, William rushed down to hug Julia, having to reach over the barrier to take her in his arms. Dr. Tash joined the group as well. William pulled back to look his wife in the eye and declared, "I think we can live with that!"

Excitedly, big smile on her face, she replied, "Yes!" and took William's lips in a kiss. Breaking off the kiss and looking behind him, she noticed the other men. "Oh, Inspector, George … and Isaac," she said, "Thank you so very much for your support." Then she saw Meyers come up behind them. "Terrence!" she called out, opening her arms to him.

William stepped back and turned to see the man Julia was addressing. "Terrence?" he repeated, eyebrow raised. They watched as Meyers and Julia hugged. William's eyes were riveted on Meyers and his wife. His blood was starting to boil, dampened only by his utter shock. The Inspector was talking to him and he had to make a major effort to understand what he was saying.

The Inspector leaned close to William, George stepping closer to hear what he had to say as well, and said, "I saw the Judge and Meyers share a look, and Meyers nodded to him. I think Meyers got ten months pulled off of her sentence." This news started to seep onto William's brain.

As soon as Meyers and Julia separated, Julia asked, "Was it you, uh … Did you speak to the Judge about my _heroic service_ to Canada?"

"No. No, I just made sure the right people were made aware that Canada owes you a debt," Meyers said, minimizing his role.

"Thank you," she said, reading through the lines and letting him know she understood what he had done for her.

Her eyes found William's. She stepped over and reached out to take William by the elbow and pull him to her. Everyone watched and listened as she looked at him suspiciously and asked, "William … Are you jealous?" He looked stunned and quickly glanced over at Meyers, but he could not deny it. "Oh, please don't be," she said, wrinkling her face with concern. She took a deep breath. Her eyes dilated and locked to his, her voice was deep, stirring a sense of awe as she disclosed, "William Henry Murdoch," lifting the palm of her hand and pressing it over his heart, "With every beat of my heart, every drop of my blood," her hand slid over to lie on his chest – over his lung, "With every breath I take, and every cell in my body…" her hands wrapped behind his neck, nails tenderly raking through his hair, "With all of my soul, and the very essence of my being," leaning her body close to his, "It is _you_ that I love." She pulled him in, brought her lips close to his and said, just above a whisper, "You," before she kissed him, deeply, slowly, but strongly, for she wanted him to feel the warm, fated love flow between them.

Although the wooden barrier was between them, William deliberately wrapped his arms around his wife tightly as the kiss grew in intensity. When the kiss broke off, Julia dropped her head and giggled, trying to hide her blush. She reached up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then glanced quickly at the four other men staring at her. Her eyes returned to meet William's.

Meyers said, "If there is anyone who should be jealous here Murdoch, I do believe it would be me. You are a very lucky man."

William took a deep breath. He did feel better.

All eyes turned to the Inspector when he cleared his throat. "Well Mr. Meyers, giving the good doctor here a hug after her sentence had been so drastically reduced was probably noticed," he said, "Might it not have drawn attention to you … Wouldn't that be a problem for a man in the _spy game_ such as yourself?

"I do believe you are right Inspector," Meyers answered. "Fortunately most of these reporters don't know who I am, and I have a plan through which I intend to leave undetected," he explained.

At that moment the guard came to take Julia away. She looked back and said, "William, you come see me. Terrence, Inspector … You let him come see me while I'm here in the Don Jail. He won't be able to, as much, once I'm in Kingston." They nodded their agreement. Julia's eyes fixed to William's once again for her last moment and then she was gone.

William stood still, looking at the vacant space where she had just been. He felt so many emotions, their accumulation overwhelming him. George and the Inspector stepped around him, the Inspector placing a hand to his shoulder. "Exciting day, hey me ole'mucker," the Inspector said. William nodded and smiled, still looking down.

George said, "Well, I guess there's no way to avoid those reporters, or those … protesters, sir." William sighed and then put on his hat and turned to go.

Meyers was gone. They looked to the door and caught sight of two men standing near one another – from the back they were almost indistinguishable, either one could be Meyers – same height, same build and general clothing.

William said, "He's the one _without_ the top hat I would wager." All three men laughed.

The moment they exited the courtroom, Dr. Tash first, a reporter approached, notebook in hand. "Dr. Tash, you are a good friend of Dr. Ogden's are you not? Helped her with the birth of their son?" he asked.

Isaac made the mistake of answering him, "Yes." Quickly he was surrounded by more reporters.

William, the Inspector and George used the distraction to their advantage, quickly zigzagging through the crowd, hoping to be overlooked and make their escape. (Meyers had relied on a similar distraction, but was wise enough to hold back a moment longer, knowing the men would fail to pass through unnoticed). From far across the room a reporter called out, "Detective Murdoch, tell us what you think of the Judge's sentence!" All eyes turned towards where the man's voice had been projected. William was amazed how quickly he heard the camera shutters clicking. He felt the Inspector shove him towards the steps. "Go Murdoch!" he barked. William shoved past a reporter and continued down the steps. They got in the closest carriage.

All three of the men sighed with relief as the carriage pulled away from the courthouse. William's mind drifted to imagining Julia being escorted back to the Don Jail – Being locked in the tiny, narrow cell, only a small bed, bucket and window besides the concrete walls and bars. It was only 36 days, but they would be very hard days. Then he thought of the children, reminding himself to call home with the news as soon as they got back to the station.

George drew his attention, "So sir, your middle name is Henry then?"

William chuckled. "Yes George, I see you were listening," he replied. A part of him was thrilled to know that they had seen how much Julia loves him - it seemed to win out over the part of him that would normally feel exposed and embarrassed.

George tried to explain his interest, "Well sir, I think Higgins would enjoy knowing you share his name."

"I do not think it has much significance, but you can tell him George," Murdoch agreed.

The conversation died down and William's mind replayed the image of Julia calling out so affectionately to Meyers, even using his given name. He heard Julia's voice in his head, " _Terrence!_ " It stirred anger and jealousy in his gut once again. He even seemed to smell Meyers' offensive cigar – remembering smelling it on Julia the night she returned from Russia. But then another image took center stage in his mind, that of seeing both, the Judge, and then Meyers stop by their table at the Club. Then the Judge's words replayed, " _Further, I have been informed that you, Dr. Ogden, have acted heroically in the past in protecting Canada's interests._ " " _Meyers definitely was instrumental in helping Julia_ ," he thought, " _When I get a chance I will have to thank him._ " He sighed, grateful that the feelings of anger and jealousy were gone.

William's mind drifted again to remembering his teachings to their children about surviving thunderstorms. " _If you are stuck in a thunderstorm and there is no way to get to safety, lay low_ ," he had advised. And so now it seemed that that is exactly what Julia must do. Surviving depended on staying out of sight, locked away and waiting it out. The carriage arrived at stationhouse #4. William sighed, " _Only 36 days left,_ " he thought.

In the Don Jail lunchroom, much later than all of the other prisoners ate dinner, Julia sat eating dinner with three other inmates. One of them, a larger than life Russian woman, Countess Fausta, seemed to be doing most of the talking. Julia was grateful for the company, but felt awkward because the Countess knew her. They had met when Julia was working on a case long ago in which a woman had died after procuring an abortion. Countess Fausta had been brought in for questioning as the Inspector knew her to have had such dealings in the past. William would have had no way of knowing she and Julia had spoken back then while the Countess was locked up in the cells. Their conversation all those many years ago still stuck in Julia's mind. Fausta stated that Julia would have no way of understanding what it was like to need to have an abortion, presumably because Julia was a TOFF. Julia had told her that her presumptions were wrong, that she had had an abortion. Fausta helped Julia determine that the cause of death for the woman's autopsy had been ingesting Penny Royal oil. Very soon after that Julia and William parted due to their differences over Julia's abortion. She could not tell if the Countess remembered her. She hoped not.

Pulled out of her thoughts by laughter as the women enjoyed one of Fausta's lively stories, Julia leaned in to draw the attention of her dinner companions and said, "I am so grateful for your company. Please let me know, however, if any of you are unhappy with the arrangements – I want no one to be inconvenienced or unhappy on my account."

"It is quite nice to dine without the threat and racket of all the others," stated the woman Julia had never met previously, Angie.

Countess Fausta said, "Now don't you worry dearie, us rebellious types need to stick together, help each other out." The third woman, Caroline, nodded in agreement. She had already shown her loyalty to the political cause of women's rights, and thus Julia as one of their champions, by defending Julia earlier when she had been attacked by Beth Tipton and the other woman.

Julia smiled and graciously said, "Well please know how very grateful I am to each of you." Soon after they had finished eating the guards took them each back to their cells.

Julia stood at the window, watching the moon illuminate the world through the bars. Only last night thunderstorms roared in the skies, electrifying their plans to connect at 10:00. Tonight, they had not made a plan to share the view, and yet she imagined William sitting on their porch with his eyes glowing in the moonlight. " _There truly could not be a greater love,_ " she thought. After a while, she sighed. She would try to sleep.

Moonlight spilled into the tiny cell as Julia slept on the prison bed's lumpy mattress. She was awakened by a sound. Startled, she rose up on an elbow to see if someone was there. Warmth surged through her heart, her body reacting to the familiar sight of him before her brain could even register his name. "William," she said, her voice filled with joy. Her husband, her lover, her soul-mate, stood before her wearing his red pajamas and barefoot – her second favorite outfit.

He leaned down to her, "Shh," he said, finger over his lips, "I couldn't sleep without you." He lifted her sheet and crawled into the bed next to her. As his body slid across hers, her insides tensed with anticipation, her head began to spin. She felt his breath pour over her ear. He whispered, "I knew you couldn't sneak out to come to me, so I had to sneak in to get to you." His lips caressed her ear, her neck.

Matching his secrecy, she whispered, "But William, you will get stuck in here," her worry telling her to send him away to ensure his safety. But as she spoke, her arms enclosed around him, took him. She so wanted him near.

He rolled on top of her, the weight of his body both grounding her and sending her into flight at the same time. "Shh," he whispered again in her ear. "Don't worry, I have a plan," he explained while he settled between her legs and slid his fingers into her hair. The French braid he had laced into her hair just over one day ago was already loose, setting the edges of Julia's face on fire with wild, unruly curls. He kissed her, softly crossing the boundary of her lips with his tongue. She moaned, finally feeling the agony of her empty longing for him become filled with the teasing promise of his presence. Wanting the feel his skin, she searched for the top button of his pajama top. She popped it open. William pulled away from her, rising up on his knees. He hurriedly pulled the top over his head. As he let it drop down onto the bed, their eyes met. He froze. Julia sat up, dropping her eyes to soak in the lunar enhancement of the ripples of the muscles across his chest, his shoulders, down his arms. She pushed back against his chest, "Sit," her breath commanded, as she nudged him to lean back against the wall. She delighted in her feeling of contentment as he acquiesced, such a strong man giving her control. With his back against the wall, his legs extended out in front of him on the narrow mattress, he reached for the constraining row of buttons down the center of her dull, gray prison frock. He pinched at the top button.

Julia shifted her position, curling her legs underneath herself to rise up on her knees. She took over the unbuttoning of her dress, he watched. She watched him watching, waiting to see his eyes grow darker with lust as her naked body was gradually revealed to him. His eyes pooled with black and she felt her breath catch, her insides flip over, her head swim deliciously in a fog. Still a few buttons left, she reached down to take hold of the lower portion of the dress and pulled it off over her head. She removed her bloomers as well. Now before him completely naked, she straddled him, climbing into his lap. She felt his urge for her poke against her folds through the red fabric of his pajama bottoms, sending a jolt of excitement through her. She lifted herself up higher, rising to her knees, bringing her bosom to dangle close to his face. Julia reached up and cupped her breasts, boosting them and bringing them together to create an exquisite cleavage. She leaned forward ever so slightly, marshmallowing William's face between her breasts. He inhaled deeply, craving her scent. Julia moaned as his mouth opened, he turned his head to the side and took her breast in. He sucked, slid, licked up to find her nipple, sending her into rapture as he held it in his mouth and stroked across it with his tongue, inciting her to moan again. William's breathing hurried. His hands firmly pressed against the backs of her thighs, moved to her buttocks, and back again, treasuring the luscious curves. Turning to smother her other breast, his fingers found the slippery opening between her folds. She was not sure she could fight gravity any longer as weakness flooded through her, wanting only to surrender to him. "Oh, William… I have missed you," she said, breathless, desperate.

He swept her down on to the mattress. Covered her. Julia's head spun so that she felt the room whirlpool around her. Her nostrils flared, frantic for oxygen. She rushed to find the string of his pajama bottoms and pulled it to set him free. William rose to his knees to slide the bottoms down, then quickly covering her once more. He slid his arms under her back, her shoulder blades, to reach up and firmly grasp her shoulders and pull her downward, guaranteeing his penetration would reach deeply inside of her. Sparks flew between them as he locked his eyes to hers and pushed up into her. Deeper, deeper he surged in. He buried his face in her neck, pounding her ear, her brain, with his hot breath. Her moan was loud, strong urgent. "Shh," she heard him whisper, "We'll get caught."

"Please William," she begged, unable to withstand waiting for his thrusting to rock her to her core. Rushed, he shoved powerfully forward into her, "Oh," and again, "Oh," she moaned. "Yes," she cried. Her hips caught his rhythm. They moved together. The tension broke – she waited knowing the flood would come.

"Mmm," his voice rumbled from his throat as his thrusts grew longer and slower. Pleasure soared within them, quickly bursting and exploding sending warm, volcanic flows spreading throughout their bodies.

Afterwards they lay still together. Then, dizzy, she felt his butterfly kisses draw the tears from her face. "I love you Julia," he whispered as the room slowed down. She was still unable to speak, only the weight of his body securing hers, holding her from floating away. Once nearly recuperated, she heard him gently tell her, "I have to go."

Julia suddenly found herself awake. He was gone. She touched her cheek – Finding it was wet with her tears. " _It was a dream_ ," she thought, amazed at her ability to feel both deliciously satiated and sad with longing at the same time. She told herself, " _Only 36 days,_ " before she rolled over and tried to call back sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 4: Tuesday, August 5, 1913

His only warning was the excited yell of, "Daddy!" before there were three children bouncing on top of him. He quickly grabbed the edges of the sheet he had been slumbering under as he slept on the couch and captured the children inside of it. Well most of the children, as many arms and legs stuck out at various angles. The giggling and screaming escalated once he started his tickling rampage.

There was an escape – William Jr. had wiggled free.

"Run," he shouted as he pulled an end of the sheet open to release one of his sisters.

Eloise walked in the door to be greeted by William, child in a blanket slung over his shoulder, as he barreled around the corner in pursuit of the little ones running up the stairs. "Good morning, Eloise," he welcomed.

"Sir," she responded.

Almost immediately after William's, Chelsea's voice could be heard from within the blanket, "Good morning Eloise."

Recognizing the child's voice she said, "And the same to you Miss Chelsea."

Eloise shook her head, but her smile betrayed her true reaction. To be honest, the happiness was contagious. " _Well, the good news about Miss Julia's sentence surely lightened the mood in this house,_ " she thought as she headed for the kitchen to start their breakfast.

There it was on the ice box, a calendar. Today and over a month's worth of the next days each had a line drawn through them. Eloise knew it was to keep track of when the mistress of the house would come home. The pounding of little footsteps above her brought her to chuckle and shake her head. " _I do hope Claire-Marie gets here soon. They're going to wear the poor detective out before he even has a chance to get dressed for work_ ," she thought.

While the family ate breakfast they worked to help 5 year-old Chelsea understand how long 36 days would take. William Jr. said, "Thirty-six days is one day more than five weeks, right Dad?"

William was impressed how quickly his 8 year-old son had done that math in his head. He nodded, "Um-hm."

The boy continued, "That means you and Katie will have taken about 5 riding lessons before Mom comes home."

"Five," Chelsea complained, "That's soooo long."

William frowned, " _It does seem long_ ," he thought… " _But_ _try to take comfort in remembering that it could have been so much worse,_ " he advised himself.

Katie asked, "Daddy, will we be back in school by the time Mommy comes home?"

William nodded his head, chewing and swallowing before he answered, "Yes, for a week or two." He looked over at Chelsea and said, "You will be starting your first time going to school, Sweetie." He realized that he would need to take them shopping for new clothes. Oh, how he wished Julia could do that for them. " _She is quite a good shopper,_ " he thought to himself with a little smile – until now he hadn't really seen shopping skills as a very valuable trait.

William Jr. asked if they could cross off today on the calendar. His father explained that it would be best to do so when the day was nearly over. The family agreed to make a tradition of it before they went to bed each night. He hugged and kissed them all good-bye.

Standing with Claire-Marie in the foyer, hat in hand and ready to head off to work, William organized the children's day. All three children were going to the Club with Dr. Tash for swimming lessons. They needed to bring their bathing suits along, and Claire-Marie was to take them in a cab to Club, where they would wait out front to meet up with Dr. Tash. (William found it particularly unsavory that it was the Club's policy _**not**_ to allow anyone but members on the premises. Upon reflection, William felt he had adjusted fairly well to his maritally-induced higher social status, but he felt ashamed of the exclusivity that accompanied it). Dr. Tash would escort the children home. They should be back by five o'clock. Once she safely dropped the children off with him, she was free for the rest of the day. Eloise would be in charge of caring for the children from when Dr. Tash brought them home until William arrived.

He tapped his jacket pocket to ensure that the watch-bracelet, or watchlet as he decided to name it, he had made for Julia was still securely inside, he put his hat on his head, and grabbed the bundle of medical magazines he planned on bringing to her later. Along his bicycle ride to the station he stopped and bought a copy of all the different newspapers. Julia would probably want to read what the press had to say about her sentence – and it would help pass the time.

The Inspector called for him the moment he walked in the station and was picking up his messages. "Murdoch, we just got a call about a body over by the college. Would you rather have Kingsley from stationhouse #3 or Reynolds from #5 for the post-mortem?" he asked.

William sighed. Losing Julia seemed to affect every aspect of his life. "Reynolds, I guess… Kingsley seemed quite… overwhelmed," he responded. The Inspector would make the call. Crabtree was out, so Higgins joined the detective to investigate the scene. The Inspector reminded him that next week he would be working with the new detective. William nodded. He was hopeful that the young man, supposedly trained by the best in the USA, would be an enthusiastic apprentice.

The body was left in a stairwell in one of the more modern buildings at the University. It seemed the man, appearing to be around 25 years of age, in very good health, and taller than average, had been shot in the back of the head. He had no notable scars on his face, " _Not our Irish man with a scar_ ," Murdoch thought. The detective guessed he had been dead for about 24 hours as the body lacked rigor. It was most likely not the scene of the killing because there was no blood. There was nothing on the man to indicate who he was – no identification, watch, papers, nothing, although the clothing suggested he was a laborer. Higgins commented that the man's clothing seemed to be covered in a white powder-like substance. William collected a sample of it using some adhesive tape and tucked it into an envelope. The bottoms of the man's shoes were nearly drenched in black ink. Although it seemed dry, when touched, it left stains on the fingers. The detective shared with Higgins, "It likely would have left a trail of shoeprints. Take a look at all of the floors in the building to see if you find any evidence that this man had walked anywhere in this building before he was killed." The detective tilted his head to the left and seemed to enter a trance. He was imagining something relevant. William remembered seeing similar shoeprints at the visiting room at the Don Jail. Further, he remembered that they were not on the floor when he and the children first arrived. Perhaps the man had been visiting someone – it would have to have been a woman, at the same time that he and the children were visiting Julia. " _I'll examine the floor when I visit later_ ," he thought, " _I'll need to get a visitor's list from Saturday too._ "

Dr. Reynolds arrived. William found himself surprised at how old and frail the man seemed. " _I guess I haven't seen him for quite some time,_ " he thought. He greeted him, "Dr. Reynolds, it's been awhile. Thank you so much for helping us with this case."

"Glad to help detective," he replied. "Things must be particularly difficult for you with Dr. Ogden locked up… So sorry to hear about that. Wish her well for me when you see her."

"Thank you sir. I will … Um, how soon do you expect to be able to perform the post-mortem?" he asked.

The doctor strained to crouch down over the body. "Looks like a bullet to the head detective. Dead about 24 hours… I won't be able to get to the post-mortem today – I have an appointment, my heart's been acting up I'm afraid. First thing tomorrow morning," he said with a nod.

William made an effort not to look frustrated with what he saw as a delay. "Thank you sir," William responded, "And I hope you feel better."

Higgins found no shoeprints in the building. William also noticed there were not any scuffmarks on the floor as there likely would have been if the body was dragged to the spot. He figured the white powdery substance on the dead man's clothing may have been from whatever the body had been wrapped in for transport. The man who had reported the body – a professor, had come in early and found the body on his way up the stairs. The night watchman claimed he did not have any reason to enter that particular stairwell, so could not help with what time it had been placed there before early morning.

Back at the station, Murdoch sent Higgins to question Jane, the prostitute he had encountered when looking for the Irish man with the scar. He still felt flustered by the woman's seduction and by his reaction to it, " _Better to send someone else,"_ he had thought. Higgins reported back that she was no longer there. The place was cleared out. She had moved and told no one where she was going.

"Oh, and sir," Higgins said, I hit a dead end on the Aasen Corporation of America. No one knew anything – claimed to never have heard of Flate. I was referred to the owner, a Mr. Niels Aasen, but he is reportedly out of the country.

"Thank you Henry," the detective responded. "He thought for a moment and said, "Please compile a list of American companies that produce weapons… Perhaps their competitors will have something to say," he explained.

"Right away, sir. Um, sir?" Higgins said leaning in, "George tells me your middle name is 'Henry' sir…" The detective nodded. Higgins smiled, "Well we share in a very famous name then sir, Henry the VIII and Henry Ford, for instance."

"Yes, I guess so," Murdoch gave, although for the life of him he could not see why it made the slightest bit of difference. "There's also Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Henry Raeburn," Murdoch added.

Higgins looked lost," Who sir?"

"A famous author and a famous painter, Henry," Murdoch taught.

Higgins nodded, "Oh yes, of course sir."

Murdoch talked things over with the Inspector and then decided he would return to Flate's boarding house. It was unlikely, but perhaps there was a connection between the dead man found this morning at the University and Flate. Murdoch turned to go, but then turned back. He took a deep breath, drawing the Inspector's attention and said, "Uh, after getting knocked on the head last week, um … Well sir, for my wife and for my children …"

"Bring a constable with you, Murdoch," the Inspector answered for him. William looked relieved that his desire to take such precautions was not met with belittlement or teasing. "Oh, and Murdoch," the Inspector said, lowering his voice implying secrecy, "That Meyers …"

William nodded at him, "Sir?"

"Well, generally I'd say don't trust him. And your instincts that he, uh … Well, let's just say he seems to have figured out that your Mrs. is just that – _ **Your**_ Mrs. But I think he did you a good turn there Murdoch," he said.

"Yes sir. I intend to thank him when I see him," Murdoch revealed.

Detective Murdoch and Constable Jackson shared a carriage to the docks to further investigate Flate's room in the boarding house. William's mind drifted once again to thoughts of Julia. This time he was enjoying the warm feelings flowing through him as he remembered the feel of her hand on his chest - pressed over his heart, and re-heard her words, " _William Henry Murdoch, with every beat of my heart, every drop of my blood, with every breath I take, and every cell in my body… with all of my soul, and the very essence of my being, It is you that I love."_ Jackson talked, seeming uncomfortable with the silence. "So, Higgins seems pretty excited about having something in common with you sir," Jackson said.

The detective rolled his eyes in disbelief. He sighed and pushed himself to find his patience. "Yes," he replied, wrinkling the corner of his mouth, "A common name."

"My wife had wanted to name our son Henry, after her father, but I find the name annoying – I guess it reminds me too much of Higgins," Jackson explained. They shared a chuckle.

Once they gained access to Jane's room, Jackson checked the drawers of the dresser, asking what they were looking for. "Anything that could indicate where the man worked, or relaxed for that matter… Anything that could tell us more about him," the detective answered, knowing that it would be of little help – It was nearly impossible to explain the myriads of ways a single piece of "evidence" could be used to learn something. Murdoch went immediately to the man's closet. He remembered the ink on the shoes. There was a pair of shoes in the closet – And there was a small amount of ink on the bottom of one of them that seemed to match. He collected the shoe in a bag. Then he moved on to the clothing. None seemed to have the white powder that was found on the dead man at the University.

Jackson moved on to search a pile of clothes on a chair. "Wait," Murdoch called out. He approached. The detective lifted the top pair of pants delicately, causing as little disturbance as possible. He held them up to the light and stared intently at the surface of the fabric. "Yes," he said, sounding quite satisfied. "This looks like a match," he continued, "Jackson, open up one of those bags in my "Murder Bag" please so we can collect this." They packed up a few more items of the man's clothing to take back to the station. Murdoch was optimistic that the evidence would connect the dead man at the University to Flate.

Arriving back at the station, Murdoch immediately noticed both Meyers and Clegg in the Inspector's office. " _Not good_ ," he thought. The Inspector spotted him and signaled for him to join them.

Tension filled the room, Murdoch exhaled through pursed lips, trying to keep cool. The Inspector started, "Well Murdoch, it appears that Mr. Clegg here has not been being honest with us…"

Clegg stood from his chair and declared, eyes burrowing into those of Meyers, "With good reason. There are assets involved – American assets."

"And these assets are on Canadian soil," added Meyers.

Clegg sat back down and sighed. He hesitated, contemplating his choices. Unfortunately, because of Jane's involvement in this case, he knew his emotions were steering the ship – and that was never a good idea. Yes, she was an "asset – an amazing spy of high value to her nation, but to him she was so much more. He had broken the major rule of being a spy – He had let himself fall for her. Now she was missing, and, he believed, in danger, as a result of her efforts to gather information on the Canadian man running an illegal weapon's business, and the subsequent requirement of having had to form a relationship with the man to gain access to his shady world. Clegg sighed again, he needed Murdoch's help. "Detective Murdoch," he said, deciding to address the man he actually needed, "I misinformed you about the identity of the American spy involved with this … weapons business. It is not the man with the scar…"

Turning a chair to face Clegg, Murdoch sat, "Oh?" he said.

Clegg took another deep breath. "No. Actually that man is the target of our investigation," he explained.

"So why did you tell us he was your spy?" Murdoch asked.

Clegg looked first at Meyers, then the Inspector before he returned his gaze to the detective. "We had a spy very close to him. I didn't think I would need your help – I wanted my spy to have the space needed to gain the essential information without having to share it with Canada," he revealed.

The Inspector assertively said, "And now you do need our help."

Clegg dropped his eyes and said, "Yes." Lifting his head and seeming to stare off, he explained, "The spy is missing. I believe our operative to be in danger – planned contact has not been completed…"

Murdoch finished his thought for him, "And you want our help finding your spy." Clegg nodded, finally regaining eye contact with Murdoch.

Murdoch stood and began to pace, "Of course, we will need to know everything you know in order to be successful," he stated. "Who is this spy? Who is the man with the scar? Where is he operating from? For a start," he said.

Clegg reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out some photos. He handed the first one to Murdoch.

He recognized her immediately – "Jane." His body felt a tug as he remembered her enticement of him. Murdoch's eyes seemed fixed on the photograph, "The spy I suppose?" he said, not lifting his eyes off of the woman's picture.

"Yes. She is a top notch operative. Her country owes her a great deal," Clegg answered.

Murdoch passed the photo to the Inspector who made a gesture indicating that he found the woman to be very attractive and commented, "Quite a looker," before he passed it on to Meyers.

Meyers said, "Oh yes," as he ogled the woman's picture, slowly inhaling on his cigar.

Murdoch went on, "Now I'm sure Mr. Clegg, you know that this woman lived at the address where you found me knocked unconscious. Was she still there when you arrived?" he asked. His mind raced to a thought, " _It could have been Clegg behind me with the gun! He could be the one who hit me!_ " Murdoch turned to eye Clegg suspiciously.

Clegg threw his hands up in the air, "Oh no! No Murdoch, you were unconscious when I arrived, and there was no one else in the room."

"I'll have to verify that with the desk clerk," Murdoch answered.

Clegg waved him off, "You are very welcome to. He will verify it."

Murdoch began pacing again, "And how is … What's her name?" he stopped and asked.

"Jane," Clegg answered, "Jane Wolfe."

"And how is Miss Wolfe related to our Irish man with the scar?" he continued his questions.

"Look Murdoch," Clegg explained, leaning forward, "Jane had been in the field investigating weapons companies for any signs of their dealings with foreign countries. She had come upon a man who had stolen many ideas from a major innovative company …"

"Aasen Corporation of America?" Murdoch verified. "And the thief was our man with the boat, Agdar Flate," he added.

"Yes," Clegg answered. The Inspector and Meyers shared a look – Murdoch seemed to know much more about the case than they had figured. Clegg continued, "Yes Murdoch. It seems Flate had fled to Canada with his stolen plans and here he found a man, Jane came to know him as Connor, who would pay him dearly for helping to build the inventions – offered him part of the profits. Jane struck up a …relationship with Connor in the hopes of learning more about his business. She found he was quite a treacherous man with many deadly and dangerous connections – It seems many tied to Russia. Your having stumbled upon her, likely when this man, Connor was with her, seems to have put her in grave danger."

The inspector stood up, challenging Clegg, "Now you look here Mr. Clegg, I will not have you implying that the best detective in the Toronto Constabulary … No, in all of Canada "stumbled" upon anything. Murdoch here was doing good police work…"

Meyers interrupted, "Gentlemen, if Mr. Clegg here has the impression that all Canada can do is bungle the investigation, well then, I say we just leave it to the Americans."

Clegg's mind and heart raced. He feared for Jane. He sat back in his chair and made an effort to calm down. He admitted, "I'm worried about her …" After a pause Clegg added, "The USA needs her …expertise. We want her back – safe."

Murdoch's instincts told him Clegg had romantic feelings for Jane. He cleared his throat and asked, "Do you know where we can find this Connor, or his weapons building business?" Clegg shook his head. "But I do have a photo," he added as he passed it to Murdoch. The picture was blurry; you couldn't even make out the scar, making it of little use. Murdoch passed it around and none of the men recognized the man.

Murdoch sighed. He looked to his superior and said, "I have a few leads. I'll get on it." William bid the men good-bye, pausing to say to Meyers, "I wanted to thank you for your help on that other matter."

Meyers nodded, "Of course Murdoch, one good turn deserves another," he said, taking a puff on his cigar and then clouding him in smoke.

William's fingers sub-consciously twitched as the scent connected in his brain, conjuring images that flashed in his mind of the repulsive odor in his wife's hair. "Very good," he replied with a slight bow, then turning on his heel and leaving the room.

As Murdoch passed by Higgins on his way to his office, he asked what he had found with respect to Aasen competitors. Higgins had found two that had been in patent disputes with the company. "Call them and see what weapons designs were involved and whether they have heard of Flate," he instructed. "Oh, and please leave George a note to make many copies of these photos to use for a search tomorrow morning," figuring he was running short on time to do it himself.

Murdoch quickly went to analyzing the white powder found on the two dead men's clothing. They matched and he determined it was mostly tiny cotton fibers. That combined with the mutual presence of ink on their shoes, led him to think both men had been around factories involved in mass producing clothing. He called Higgins, who leaned in the office door, "Yes sir?"

Putting on his hat, Murdoch said, "Henry, I also need a list of all of the textile factories in Toronto – particularly any on the docks. Thank you. I'm heading back to see if we missed anything of importance in the prostitute's room. Then I'll probably go to the Don Jail to visit Julia…" he said, turning back to retrieve the newspapers and magazines for her he had nearly forgotten. "Um, please put the results of your search on my desk for the morning. Thanks," he finished with a nod good-bye.

The desk clerk confirmed that Clegg had arrived after Jane and another man left. In her room Murdoch found a small amount of blood on the floor where he had fallen, likely his own, prompting him to rub the spot on the back of his head. He noted that the only remaining evidence of the blow was a small cut. He also found blood splatter on one of the walls and a smear of blood low on a dresser. He imagined that such evidence could result from Jane being struck or beaten. There was no evidence of such wounds on her when he saw her. It was a sufficient amount of blood that he thought it might have required stitches. He decided that tomorrow he would have the constables check the hospitals for anyone who might have treated a woman looking like Jane for such wounds – They would have the photos by then.

He also found a shoeprint with similar black ink to that found on both dead men's shoes, as well many other black smudges on the floor. He wondered if it might be the dead man at the University, although he remembered his feet as being bigger than average while the prints here looked to be average – size ten or so. " _Or even Flate?_ " he considered, " _Before he died_." He would need to ascertain Flate's shoe size after tomorrow's post-mortem. The large number and varying degrees of darkness of the prints suggested the same man may have visited Jane often. Remembering Clegg saying that Jane was in a "relationship" with the man called Connor, William also thought it might have been Connor. The clerk claimed he didn't see Jane's face when she left, and so was unable to say if she had been injured, but thought she did look like she was being hurried along by a man. Once again he claimed he did not recognize the man and that he did not have a scar.

William needed to rush to catch the women's visiting hours at the prison. He would have to leave his bike at the station until tomorrow. He took a cab. Trying to calm down from the rush of the day, he pulled out a newspaper, The Toronto Gazette. Julia's sentencing had made the cover. The headline read, "Citizen Ogden, Canadian Heroine Gets 36 Days for Contraception Education." He thought Julia would be pleased with this one. The largest photo with the article was of him, and George, entering the court. Much of the crowd of protesters against contraception could be seen in the picture. He noticed one man who seemed to be yelling, recognizing him as the one who had said Julia should have been hung the first time. He had a visceral reaction to the memory, mentally thanking George for urging him along. It had been a while since he'd had such a feeling, " _Since Gillies_ ," he thought.

Wanting to push the feeling away, he examined the other photo. It was of Julia from years ago. If memory served him – as it usually did, then it was from when she was married to Darcy. He even remembered the original story it was from. Julia had organized a protest against the illegalization of contraception. A man had approached a woman who was protesting with her and threatened his wife with a beating if she did not stop protesting. When he had tried to actually hit his wife, Julia had intervened and shoved him. He had fallen to the ground, knocking over a vegetable cart.

William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth. He remembered his reaction to the story when he first read it. The same feeling glowed inside him then as it did now, this many years later – love. He so loved this woman. At the time it had sent an agonizing pain through his heart as well, to be so strongly aware of the powerful extent of his love for her and at the same time to know she would never love him, that she loved another … A big sigh surged out of him. Folding up the newspaper, he realized they were nearly there.

When he first came in, he asked the guard if the Warden was there. He would be able to meet with him after he was done visiting with Julia to request the list of visitors from Saturday, thinking he might be able to get a list of possible identities for the man from the University through the shoeprints. Completely alone in the visiting room waiting for Julia, he looked for the prints. He found many black smudges and two fairly clear shoeprints. Their locations suggested the man had been in the back of the room. William couldn't pull up a useful memory of anyone in particular from that area. He was further disappointed as the prints looked to be from a normal sized shoe – " _Not the man from the University…Can't be Flate, he was already dead. Perhaps this Connor?_ " he thought.

William was still crouched down over the shoeprints when the guard brought Julia in. He lifted his head and their eyes met across the room. Coquettishly, she dropped her head, tilting it to the side and thanked the guard as he closed the door. The man stood rigidly at attention against the wall. When she looked back to William, he had not moved. He stayed put as she walked towards him. Each seemed charmed and transfixed by the other. "Detective," she acknowledged.

Still squatting and never loosening his hold on her magnetic blue eyes he responded, "Doctor."

"As usual, I see your interest has been captured by some case or another," she said with a slight hint of a pout.

"It was," he admitted as he rose to stand, his brown eyes sparking and twinkling as their gravity seemed to draw her in.

"And now?" she asked, stepping towards him, the charge between them growing exponentially.

She had taken his breath, rendering his voice dry and smoky. "Now there is only you," he said.

She stepped very close. "And you," she added.

William gasped softly and then cleared his throat, inside his brain the room had begun to spin. He both couldn't tell where he ended and she began, and, was acutely aware of the mere inch between them. The attractive force pulling them together teased exquisitely. Neither moved, exhilarated by the tension.

William gave in first. Their eyes still linked, she felt his fingers move across her jaw, his thumb caressing her bruised cheek as he reached deeper into her hair, cradling her head with his fingers, deliciously tracing her ear under his thumb. His other hand slipped between her arm and her waist, then spread out across her back and pressed firmly into her flesh, moving her forward, adding inertia to gravity. Breathing, each taking in oxygen while their souls tugged at the other, heads tilted, lips touched. Slow, glowing fireworks bloomed within them. She fell into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss, adding fuel to the fire.

He broke off the kiss and guided her to the wall behind him, turning her to tuck her between himself and the wall. The kiss was lustful, rougher, demanding. His body pressed heavily against hers. When the kiss broke, Julia dropped her head back into the wall. She swallowed, her breath was hurried. William's mouth found her ear, nibbling seductively, flooding her with warm breath. Her head was swimming, " _Remember where you are_ ," she warned herself. Her mind flashed with memories of her dream last night, her delightful mid-night visit from this man she loved, with whom she was totally smitten. "William," she said, voice breathy and weak, "Oh William…" She turned her head to him, slid her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. She pulled his hair, nudged her face under his, hunting for his lips. " _Oh my God_ ," she thought as they kissed more passionately than her restraint could contain. She felt William's strong urge for her firmly poking against her crotch. " _Stop_ ," she fought with herself in her head, " _You have to stop."_ Finally her inner voice instructed, " _Turn from him…Turn away._ " She did so, breaking off the heated kiss. "William we can't," she said as, once again, her head fell back into the wall, her chest heaved, craving air.

His thoughts swirled around and around in his head. He tried to catch one, feeling his stomach flip as it pulled him along, gradually slowing, allowing him to perceive the prison wall behind them, remembering where he was. His voice close to her ear, the sound of it still surging lust through her, he instructed, "Look for the guard." He moved back from her, allowing her to see. While she looked for the guard, William reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her prison dress.

"William," she warned with an air of surprise in her voice.

He unbuttoned the next one and asked, "Can you see the guard?"

She found it hard to stay focused on the task as he slid his hand over the fabric of her dress to cup and squeeze her breast, evoking a gasp from her. His other hand popped the third button free. She saw his eyes darkening with desire and felt his breath flowing down her skin. She wanted him, desperately. Her eyes quickly darted to the door where the guard stood. He was out of sight. "The column is blocking his view," she said, aware that William already knew this – that he had intentionally brought them to be in the one place in the room out of the guard's sight. Her husband was brilliant. " _How far will this go_?" the thought thrilled through her. The next button opened. His fingers teased her nipple upward… And then the next button broke free. " _Oh my God,_ " her inner voice swam in her brain. With the next button, he was able to push the dress out of the way, opening her breasts to the air. He pressed them together, thumbs flickering over her nipples. He lowered his face to lay it within the pillows of flesh. Although she tried with all her might to be silent, a moan – low, from deep in her throat, burst out. So soft, warm, damp his velvety tongue and lips pushed into her as he kneaded and molded her malleable bosom. "William, please," she whispered, not herself sure whether she was begging him to stop or begging him to go.

Julia grasped the top button of his trousers and undid it. Getting this close to what they both yearned for startled him. He pulled back, quickly regaining control. He knew he would not go this far – Not here. Julia caught his eye. He thought she looked grateful.

"Yes," she said, "We need to stop." They each re-did the buttons on their clothing and then moved apart.

"Thirty-five days," he whispered to her as they walked together to sit at the table, completely within view, but hopefully not within earshot, of the guard. Speaking quietly, the feeling of intimacy and importance magnified as a result, they talked. Julia told him about her dream. He shared that Katie seemed to no longer be plagued by nightmares, but when she asked after his, he confided that they still happened nearly every night – He still slept on the couch.

She told him about her dinners with the three ladies, and that they also got to spend some time together in the prison yard. She weighed whether or not to tell William about Countess Fausta knowing about her having had her abortion, deciding to do so. He told her that the Countess's real name was Sally Smoot, and that he had gotten the impression that, although she was quite rough around the edges, she seemed to have a good heart. Julia agreed.

Their attention turned to the newspapers. "William," Julia said, voice filled with concern, "Nearly all of them question your integrity as a police officer, suggesting that you knew about, and covered for, my actions."

He nodded, knowing this was true. "I will be fine, Julia," he calmly said.

She found an article with Dr. Tash's picture. Quickly skimming it, she was worried for him too. She whispered to William, "Isaac was asked about whether or not he provided education and contraceptives to his patients. He had to lie, William. He told them 'no' and it gets worse, they asked about abortions… It makes me sick to think that his friendship with me could get him in so much trouble."

William sighed. "Do you want me to go see him?" he asked.

"No," she answered, "But perhaps a phone call…Let him know I'm sorry and find out if he is alright?"

"Consider it done," he replied.

Each entertained their own thoughts for a moment. Julia slid her chair closer to his. He wrapped an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

Another visitor came in.

Her voice just barely above a whisper, she said, "The note you wrote me William, It was beautiful…" She turned and kissed his neck. In his ear her voice sang, "Your love sustains me." He kissed her.

Remembering the watchlet he had made for her in his pocket, he broke off their kiss. He pulled out the small gift, took her wrist and strapped it on her. "Ten o'clock," was all he said.

Before he left, William collected the list of visitors to the prison last Saturday and then headed for home. Waiting for a cab, William checked his watch. He would likely make it home in time to eat dinner. The sight of the watch in his hand triggered a memory of being in the court as Julia tenderly returned it to him. Tonight as well, they planned to watch the moon together. His eyes lifted to the heavens, clouds were gathering to the west. " _Looks like storms are rolling in – maybe it'll be thunderstorms instead_ ", he thought.

 _ **(Storms were definitely brewing).**_


	5. Chapter 5

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 5: Wednesday, August 6, 1913

In the wee hours of the morning, Julia finally drifted off to sleep after using every ounce of daylight to read the newspaper articles William had brought for her. She was troubled by a photo of William in which he seemed to be under a shouting attack from anti-contraception protesters, cringing as she thought of William having to undergo such treatment. Further, a man in the photograph looked disturbingly familiar, sending a chill down her spine. By the time the last pink hue had faded, it was nearly 10:00 according to her gift – her watchlet.

 **Her dreams mixed memories and fears. In the first, she was at her prison cell window, the pleasant breeze cooling her skin and clearing her wayward curls from her face. "William might be disappointed," she thought, "there is no moon tonight, too cloudy, and no storms either." As if on cue, she heard the rumble of thunder from storms far off. However, rather than feeling the anticipated excitement and awe, she felt dread. Instantly she was relocated – She found herself at the top of a maple tree, and the voice of the one man she loved most in the world was talking to her from atop another tree. He was saying that even though there was thunder, it was probably safe to remain in the trees for a while longer. A startling crash exploded nearby and then she was suddenly in her prison bed. She had sat up, scared. William was missing. As a flash of lightning brightened the cell she saw a man's arm ominously reaching up from under the bed to grab her. Bang, and another flash revealed the menacing man from the photograph moving towards her, hands opened, claws readying for attack. Then William jumped the malicious man from behind. William fought him off, the man running to avoid capture. With only a glance to her before his attention was drawn to the footprints on the floor, William took off in pursuit. Julia ran after him, only to be blocked by the prison cell bars. It was her screaming for someone to help, for someone to follow and to help William that had awakened her. Uneasiness and worry nearly drowning her, her head spinning, heart pounding, she gasped and struggled to find the moment, to reassure herself that it was just a dream and that everything was alright.  
Soon after the first, another dream took form. Once again she stood looking out of the prison cell window – but this time it was many years earlier and she was soon to be hung. Meyers came to visit her. He told her that William was missing. She worriedly said, "He must be in trouble. That's why he didn't come." Meyers began reading something to her. She recognized it as the letter Caroline Hill had written to William about what her father had thought of their relationship, but now it was written to her. Meyers read, "Your father** **never believed you had killed your husband. He had a friend who brought him transcripts from the trial. He cried many tears reading them. His only hope was that your faith in William was warranted, and that he would save you from the noose. A friend of Chief Inspector Giles put him in touch with Giles. Giles told him about the trap set for William, about the tape Gillies had made, and the choices William had made to procure it to prove your innocence. He would want you to know that he wished for nothing more than for you to marry and live the rest of your life with William." Meyers folded up the letter and said, "If Murdoch is dead, I want you to know that I care for you deeply Julia. I will be here to comfort you if you will have me." Julia sobbed and pushed him away. She apologized but she knew she would never get over losing William, she would always be inconsolable.**

This time Julia awakened flooded with grief. She quickly recognized that it was just a dream, a dream with a common theme – the death of William. Her mind flashed to the image from last night – him squatted over some footprints in the visiting room and her pulling his attention to her. He looked so beautiful, and so in love with her. Tears rapidly streamed down her face. She knew she was holding her breath, doing so to minimize the pain. Giving in to the need to breathe, she raggedly inhaled, then felt the cinders of pain brighten and intensify when she released the warm air and it moved over her aching heart as she exhaled. The hurt triggered anger. She punched her pillow, then roughly rolled over. She did not want to get stuck once again in this helpless dread and pain. She tried to calm herself, imagined William lying next to her. His voice in her ear, "We have made a life together. We have children now… They will love you even if I am gone. And you will love them." She saw herself and their three children sitting at the table, eating, talking – going on without him. Tucking the pillow in her arms, she noticed her sigh did not hurt as much.

Back at their house, William had fallen asleep on the bench on their porch. He had been looking at the sky at the same time as Julia and had also heard the thunderstorms off in the distance. He remembered being with Julia up in the trees at the lake-house and thinking it was safe until lightning hit close by. **Now, in his dream, she was blown out of tree – but he couldn't find her anywhere. On the ground where she should have been he found the watchlet he had made for her. It had stopped. He took out his pocket watch and saw that it had stopped too. An inner voice said, "The one without the other can make time stand still." William woke up with a twitch as his arm tried to move to shade his eyes as he looked to see if even the Sun had stopped moving in the sky with his loss of Julia.** Realizing he had fallen asleep, and that once again he had dreamed of losing her, he sighed and went inside to sleep on the couch.

 **From the couch, he heard it so faintly at first, far off, weak, and tiny. But, as the volume grew and he searched, moving in the direction in which the calls were beckoning from, he came to recognize them as William Jr., Katie, and Chelsea's cries. "Daddy! Help Us. Over here Daddy," they called. Then he saw them, miniaturized and trapped within an hourglass – the sands of time flowing down from the top of the hourglass to slowly smother them. They pounded on the glass walls and screamed for his help. The hourglass rested at the foot of a grave. He was in a cemetery.**

 **William rushed towards them, but he was quickly restrained by a hand that reached out of the earth and grabbed his ankle. As he fought to free himself and continue on, he saw hundreds of hands rising out of the earth ahead of him. Horror and grief filled him, weighing him down, impeding his progress, as he recognized some of them as people who had been killed in his cases, others he knew more personally. There was Liza's hand, white and smooth with the sleeve of her red dress and the engagement ring he had given her, and his sister Susana's stronger arm, hand adorned with a nun's wedding band and the black sleeve of a Reverend Mother's frock. Further ahead, he saw the hand of his mother, soaked and pale from being dead in the water, two small rings from his father on her ring finger. Terror nearly paralyzed him, but still he heard the calls of their children. With all his strength he leaned forward, rushed on. Each hand grabbed a hold of him, pulled against him to hold him back, but he still advanced. Only when he was mere inches away from the hourglass with the children, did the hand of his mother stop him. He begged as he stretched his arm out and reached for the hourglass to save them, as they were now nearly completely buried in the sand.**

 **Then, Julia's hand reached up from within her grave – her engagement and wedding rings sparkling in the twilight. Her hand lifted the hourglass and reached it towards him. He grabbed a hold of the end of it. He heard Julia's voice exclaim, as she kept a firm hold on her end of the hourglass, "Pull! Fight with all your might to break it open William," and he did so, aided by the force of his mother's arm pulling with him as well. The bottom of the hourglass broke off and the children along with the sand spilled out onto the ground. They breathed in the air and it filled them up, bringing them to their regular size.**

 **The children surrounded him with hugs and kisses and tears of joy rolled down his face. Suddenly he heard Katie's voice shriek, "Mommy! Mommy!" and William turned to see the little girl on her knees at Julia's grave, digging frantically, dark earth flying everywhere. "We have to get her out! …Mommy!" she hollered. He rushed to her and scooped the small child up into his arms. She pummeled his chest, kicked and scratched and wriggled to get free. "Mommy! … Daddy, we have to get her out. Mommy!" she cried.**

 **William held the child securely and dropped to his knees. He called for William Jr. and Chelsea, "Help me hold her, and they wrapped their arms tightly around their father and their sister. Softly, soothingly, calmly he said in her ear, "We can't save her Katie. Mommy is dead, honey."**

" **No Daddy," she quietly said, before sobs overtook her.**

The sound of Eloise closing the front door as she came in brought him out of the dream. Tears running down his face, William awakened with the feeling that time was running out, that it was later than it seemed. Filled with uneasiness and a sense of foreboding, he rose for the day.

Over breakfast, William Jr. pleaded, "Please Dad, It's a girl's story. I don't want to go see Cinderella. It's bad enough that I have to listen to the story when it's our family bed-time book."

Addressing her older brother, Katie said, "But we went to your swimming lesson when we didn't want to – when Dr. Tash took us."

"Yeah," Chelsea added.

"But at least you like to go swimming. I will not like watching a play about Cinderella!" he insisted.

All eyes turned to their father. William put his fork down and took a sip of tea, stalling to think. "William Jr.," he said, "Unfortunately, I believe you will have to go. I gave Claire-Marie the afternoon off because I planned on all of you being with Mrs. Brackenreid. With your mother not here, she has been working extra-hard, and now I can't ask her to work this afternoon. I'm sor…"

Interrupting, William Jr. said, "But, why can't I stay home alone? I'm old enough now."

William shook his head, "No son, I'm sorry, but your mother and I have talked about this. Not yet."

Having been listening to the conversation thus far, Eloise decided to take pity on the boy, "I'm so sorry to interrupt detective," she said, turning to face them from the sink, "I can take responsibility for William Jr. today if you would like. We can call over to see if he can play at Charlie's house, and if not, then he can accompany to the market later."

William looked at his son. With a smile on his face, the boy asked, "Please Dad?"

William looked back at Eloise and thanked her. William Jr. got up from his seat and rushed over to give Eloise a 'thank you' hug, which she warmly accepted.

"Alright, it's settled then. You girls please be good for Mrs. Brackenreid – No fighting. He leaned forward in his chair to intensify his words and explained, "Look at me please. This is what I expect from each of you; if you start to disagree over something, the very moment one of you remembers that you promised to try not to fight, I expect you to remind the other. And then both of you stop – End of story. You can work out the disagreement when you get home. Agreed?" Both girls nodded.

"Good," their father said, "Now, I'm off to work. Thanks again Eloise."

For eight in the morning, it was amazing how hot it was. Parking his bicycle at the station, William was already sweating. He picked up his messages and then went into his office to re-organize his blackboard. First, there was the death of Flate (an inventor/thief of weapons plans), followed by the death of a tall man dressed as a laborer found at the University. Also, a man with an Irish accent and a scar, believed to have the given name Connor who also deals in weapons, seems connected to these two. It is likely the three men are linked by the weapons connection (for Flate and Connor) and the black ink on the bottoms of their shoes (Flate, the man at University, and possibly Connor at the prison visiting room), and the cotton fibers on their clothing (Flate and man at University). Murdoch wrote "Textile Factory and Weapons?" next to each of the three men's names. Murdoch wrote 'USA' and Aasen next to Flate's name. Next to Connor's name he wrote "Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church," "docks," and "Jane," then "shoeprints Women's Visiting Room Don Jail?" He drew a line from Jane's name and wrote "Clegg," "USA spy," and "relationship/Connor – beaten /injured." The detective stepped back and stared at the board.

He was bothered by the shoeprints in the Don Jail Women's Visiting Room. He sighed, "Most likely this man Connor's," he thought. "George," he called.

"Yes sir," George said chipperly, leaning in at the door.

Murdoch handed him the list he had gotten from the guard at the prison and asked him to try to determine who these visitors are, and who they visited – "Particularly the ones with the first name initial of "C," but don't bother with "C. Murdoch," that's Chelsea, and she visited Julia."

"Right away sir," George replied and turned to go, but hesitated. "If you don't mind my asking sir, has the good news about the shortened sentence helped the children's morale?"

"Yes, quite George," he replied. Then he sighed, "Only 34 days to go," he said with a wrinkle of his mouth suggesting that waiting still hurt.

George nodded, "Good sir," he said, "I'll get right on this."

The detective lifted another list from his desk, "Oh, and George … Oh, never mind, I still need to do something with this before this step is ready to pass on to you," he said.

William sat at his desk. He planned on taking the photos of Jane and Connor to the local hospitals next, but decided to make copies of the photos and send a few constables to do the task, increasing efficiency. He went to the backroom to make the copies. He would also send constables with the photos of Flate, Jane and Connor to the textile factories on the list Higgins had compiled. He still did not have a photo of the man who was found dead at the University as he had not gone to Stationhouse #5 for the post-mortem results yet, so they would have to follow-up with that photo later.

A knock just outside the drawn curtain drew the detective's attention, "Murdoch," Brackenreid said, "My office right away." He hung the last photo to dry and went directly to the Inspector's office.

"I just received a call from Stationhouse #5. Brace yourself Murdoch … Reynolds was performing the autopsy and seems to have dropped dead," the Inspector stated.

Murdoch looked both surprised and concerned. He said, "Um, he had a bad heart…"

"No, that's not it Murdoch. His assistant is headed over here right now – But it seems Reynolds was poisoned… by the body!"

"What?" Murdoch asked, taking a seat.

The Inspector poured himself a drink. He sighed and then went on, "The assistant had explained that Reynolds called out for him, fell to the floor and then said, "Poison … Don't touch anything. Get out and get Dr. Ogden. The man did what he said. Ran over to the stationhouse. By the time the detective was able to get there, he opened the door and saw that Reynolds was dead."

"Did they go in?" Murdoch asked.

"No… No I don't think so," the Inspector answered. "They are treating it as your case, Murdoch… It was your body. I've called the Chief Inspector," he added.

"Good, sir," the detective responded as he stood. He walked to the door and said, "I have an assignment for some of the lads before they get here." He nodded and left. He sent a few constables out with the pictures of Jane and Connor to hospitals. They were to show the photos and ask if anyone came in for treatment, likely needing stitches, that looked like them. Another pair of constables took the photos of Flate, Jane and Connor to the textile factories on Higgins' list.

Later, in the Inspector's office, the Chief Inspector paced nervously as he spoke, "I'll put a call in to the Judge. We need Dr. Ogden released immediately – on parole, I guess."

William's heart was pounding in his chest, and there was a high pitched violin note buzzing in his head. He was excited – Julia would be freed, but he was terrified. " _She will need to go work on the deadly body … No,_ _ **bodies**_ _, now that Reynolds has died from the poison too,_ " he figured.

Murdoch cleared his throat, drawing the men's attention, "We must assume the poison was planted intentionally. Someone wanted to kill the coroner. But …"

The Inspector continued his thought, "But the killer could have no way of knowing which coroner would have been called to do the post-mortem. The body was in Dr. Ogden's jurisdiction, but of course, being in prison, it could have been sent to any of the others."

"Yes," the Chief Inspector replied, still pacing. "Now, we also have to figure that the killer was not targeting Dr. Ogden because it is public knowledge that she is in prison."

The detective suggested that the killer may have assumed the same coroner would be called as performed the post-mortem on the earlier body – Flate. That would suggest that Kingsley from Stationhouse #3 was the intended victim. He planned to look into people with motives to harm Kingsley. Murdoch leaned forward and added, "Perhaps it is an attack on the Constabulary?" he asked, his face wrinkling at the corner of his mouth. "And could this be connected to this whole illegal weapons business?" he continued.

The Inspector suggested, "Maybe this … Connor character of Clegg's…" He stopped realizing the Chief Inspector had not been informed about the whole Meyers/Clegg case. They agreed to catch the Chief Inspector up on that case as well, even though they were not sure the two cases were connected. The Chief Inspector called the Judge, finding he was unavailable, so the Chief Inspector intended to go in person to argue for the release of Toronto's Chief Coroner due to this emergency. The Inspector and Murdoch filled the Chief Inspector in on the illegal weapons case and then he headed to the court.

William sat at his desk trying to think of all the ways poisons could kill you. It seemed unlikely that Reynolds ingested the poison. " _It had to be through the air or physical contact with the skin,_ " he thought. How could he let Julia go into such a dangerous situation, and yet he knew she would not hear of staying out of it. He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the stress. Somewhere from deep in the back of his mind, he heard little Katie's mournful voice denying the death of her mother from his dream last night, " _No Daddy."_ … He had to find a way to keep Julia safe – at least as safe as possible. He pictured sending her in wearing a deep-sea diver's suit, after all such suits keep the water around the diver out, and so they should keep the air around a person out as well. " _With gloves somehow sealed tight to the sleeves, and rubber bootie-like shoes sealed tight around the bottoms of the rubber trousers, and some kind of a helmet or hood – and an oxygen tank so she wouldn't have to breathe the air in the morgue!"_ he thought, getting excited as he realized he could probably make a suit that would keep her safe from the hazardous materials she would encounter. Immediately he called the Royal Canadian Navy (created three years earlier in 1910). He would start with three of their suits – three because Julia would not be doing the work alone, and develop some of the other essentials from there.

After he called a Navy official and made arrangements for picking up some diver's suits later, Murdoch asked one of the constables about their success at the textile factories. No one recognized Flate, Jane or Connor as working or having dealings at their factory, but one manager said that Jane and, not so much the photo of Connor, but the description of a man with a scar, seemed familiar. They speculated that perhaps they were living near this particular textile factory – on, or near, the southern end of Bowling Avenue.

The detective rubbed his forehead again and said, "I didn't think there were any residences that far down on Bowling? Look into it please... How did it go at the hospitals – Did anyone recognize Jane or Connor?" The constable reported that none of the people at the hospitals remembered anyone with those descriptions getting t treated for lacerations or abrasions requiring stitches, but many of the nurses suggested coming back later. Different people work the late shift and perhaps Jane and Connor came in later. Murdoch remembered that it was later in the afternoon when he encountered Jane and, now he believed, Connor… And it seemed likely that Jane incurred her injuries after he was knocked unconscious. He sighed. He would need to go himself later. Perhaps he could go home for dinner, share the good news about Julia coming home sooner, and then ask Claire-Marie if she could stay and put the children to bed. If not then perhaps Eloise could stay with them until he could get home to put the children to bed. For now, he would head over to the Navy official who was helping him with his Hazardous Materials Suits.

Elsewhere, Margaret had taken the two Murdoch girls out to lunch after the Cinderella play. They had a lively conversation, as both little girls were very outgoing and talkative. Margaret asked them what William Jr. would be doing instead of coming with them.

After the girls explained, Chelsea said that he probably wished he could have gone swimming, "William Jr. loves swimming. He has a swimming competition soon."

Katie added, "He gets his good swimming from our mother. Mommy is a great swimmer – if not, Daddy would be dead." Margaret gave Katie a surprised look and she explained that, a long time ago, their mother had swum into the bottom of a sinking boat to save him.

"So your Mommy saved your Daddy's life. I thought it was your Daddy who was always saving your Mommy," Margaret asked.

Katie thought for a moment and said, "Well Daddy has saved Mommy many times, but Mommy saves Daddy sometimes too – Like she's a great doctor, and she has to fix him sometimes."

Chelsea excitedly added, "And Mommy and Daddy love each other sooo much – Just like Cinderella and Prince Charming!"

Margaret felt an urge to be nosy, and decided to give in to it. "Oh my, they love each other that much?!" she exclaimed, leaning forward in her chair, "Do they ever have fights?"

Katie answered, "Yes Daddy has to sleep on the couch." Margaret chuckled inside. "But Daddy is sleeping on the couch now, even when Mommy is not home… And Mommy said it's not because they are fighting. Mommy said Daddy is really sad and can't sleep without Mommy in the bed."

Chelsea asked, "Mrs. Backwenread …"

Katie corrected her, "Mrs. Brack-en-reid."

Chelsea tried again (she was only 5 years old), "Mrs. Brackenweed …"

"No," Katie said, "Mrs. Brack-en-read.

"No bother," Margaret insisted. "What are you trying to ask Chelsea?"

"Do you think Daddy is so sad because he can't kiss Mommy enough?" Chelsea finally got to ask.

"They do kiss aah- lot, all the time!" Katie added. "Daddy loves Mommy sooo much. He writes her lots of love notes, and brings her beautiful flowers all the time – and even sings the song he wrote for her BEFORE THEY EVEN MET!" Katie elaborated.

Margaret took another bite of her food, stalling before she answered Chelsea's question about why her Daddy was sad. In some ways she found herself feeling jealous. "Well not being able to … kiss your Mommy could make your Daddy sad…"

Katie went on, "Yes, and Daddy usually kisses Mommy _**a whole lot**_ when they are in their bed. Mommy and Daddy need privacy time – like every morning when their door is closed and we have to knock. Sometimes they say "not yet" – when Daddy is kissing mommy a lot."

Margaret took a sip of her drink, finding she was dry-throated and turning slightly red.

Little Chelsea said, "William Jr. says it's when Daddy is putting his penis inside Mommy." Margaret's drink sprayed out of her mouth and gushed all over the table. Both girls stared at her, unsure whether to be frightened or not.

"Sorry, girls. Sorry," Margaret said, choking a little bit more, "I must have swallowed my drink wrong."

Katie seemed to decide everything was fine and said, "William Jr. can't be right. Daddy wouldn't do that to Mommy, I know it."

"Yeah," Chelsea agreed.

Margaret was crimson now. She changed the subject, "Which one of you girls would like to give our waitress her tip?" Unfortunately, this started a fight between the girls as they each wanted to be the one to give the waitress the tip. They argued back and forth until Katie remembered what their father had said about fighting and reminded Chelsea. They agreed that Mrs. Brackenreid should give the waitress the tip. By the time the Murdoch girls got home, they did not even remember the fight.

When William got back to the station with three diver's suits, oxygen masks, and helmets, in tow, the Inspector called him into his office. "Good news me old mucker, your wife will be released on parole tomorrow at 10:00 AM." He held his fist up in the air in celebration.

William smiled, but then said, "Well sir, it is not totally good news – She will also be placed in grave danger." His face betrayed his authentic concern.

"Of course Murdoch. That is true," the Inspector replied, now seeming to share his detective's concern.

William, releasing a big sigh through pursed lips, trying to handle the stress he felt, added, "I do have an idea that I think will help to keep her… them … us… whoever actually goes into the morgue, safer. I am making Hazardous Materials Suits," he proclaimed proudly. "There are some problems though – Like the weight of the oxygen tanks and the helmet," he went on, reaching up to rub his forehead. "Um … Sir? I would very much like to go pick Julia up tomorrow … and um, have some time …"

The Inspector smiled, the love and devotion Murdoch showed to Dr. Ogden warming his heart. He quickly replied, "Of course Murdoch, of course… It should be quite a … hearty reunion I suspect," he said with an elbow into Murdoch's arm and a click of his tongue. "The Chief Inspector has called a meeting with her in my office – Um, I think we are going to want to include Meyers and Clegg as well, tomorrow at 2:00…so, you'll both have to be here by then."

Murdoch nodded, "Thank you sir."

Stopping by George's desk, the detective asked how it went with the list of names of people visiting the prison. The list did not indicate which prisoner each person had visited and George had not been able to obtain that information. The detective was annoyed. " _A prison guard's mistake is definitely going to hinder my investigation_ ," he thought, " _Actually, I'll have to investigate this guard – Perhaps he had intentionally hidden someone's identity._ " William called the Warden to bring the guard's mistake to his attention and inquired about the loyalty of the guard. The Warden vouched for the guard's integrity so Murdoch suggested that the guards may need reminder of correct protocol. The Warden indicated that they are more lax with the women. Even when some of the first names were able to be obtained for the first initials of people on the list, there were many dead ends – possibly because the individuals could have used false names, or perhaps they were shady characters so by nature they were good at hiding.

Murdoch asked the Warden if Julia had been informed about the release on parole tomorrow. The Warden informed him that she had. He asked if the Warden would be willing to get a note and some chocolates to her from him if he sent a constable with them, and he agreed. Murdoch thanked him for his help and told him he would likely see him tomorrow as he was picking his wife up there. He warned the Warden that he expected a lot of press and protestors to also be there. The Warden said he was ready for them – That there would be a line behind which they had to stay. They bid each other good-day.

During visiting hours at the Don Jail, Cecily McKinnon sat meeting with a man. "So Sean, why are you here? Where is Connor?" McKinnon asked, sounding annoyed.

The young handsome man, also with an Irish accent, wiggled in his chair uncomfortably and said, "He did not want to take a chance. It seems the constabulary, as directed by this detective Murdoch, is looking for a man with his description… He said it was safer to send me."

McKinnon gritted her teeth and seemed to fight to sound calm. She went on, "Well, now that that imbecile Isabel has gone and alerted the constabulary to the danger …" She shook her head in disbelief, "The absolute stupidity and incompetence. I told Connor to tell her to be READY to go – not TO GO!" McKinnon pushed back into her chair and took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.

"Connor thinks they still don't know Ogden was the intended victim – as she was still in prison… That's good, right?" Sean asked.

McKinnon sighed, "Yes, little brother, that is the only good thing about her mistake. There is a rumor in here that Ogden will be released tomorrow to deal with the … mess in the morgue. Perhaps she'll end up dying anyway. If not, then Isabel will have to try again. And she still needs to kill Murdoch."

Sean nodded. "As to that, she says she needs another body – That she has a particular one in mind, but it won't be for a few days yet."

McKinnon sighed and said, "She has a few days… Now, is the dirigible ready for Brackenreid? – I want that done Saturday night." Sean nodded again. "And how are the negotiations going with the Russians…"

Meanwhile, in his office, William turned his attention to working on the Hazardous Materials Suits. The first problem was the massive weight of the helmet for the suit – " _Too heavy for Julia to bear for very long, if at all,_ " he figured. He decided to make hood like helmets out of wax-lined canvas bags, using safety goggles over the holes for the eyes. George served as the guinea pig, walking around and maneuvering objects while wearing the suit at each stage of development. William felt quite accomplished, having completed all three suits by the time he needed to head home for dinner. Fortunately, Claire-Marie was able to cover for the evening, as he still planned on visiting hospitals later. He hurried out to buy the chocolates for Julia, wrote her a note, and sent a constable to the prison to deliver them. Then he rode his bicycle home.

William couldn't help but think about the fact that by the same time tomorrow, Julia would be by his side. Despite all his fears and worries, his anticipation and excitement about being with her so soon seemed to render his heart nearly bursting with joy. Memories of the last time he saw her flowed through his mind, with merely the thoughts of pinning her to the wall and touching her so lustfully while being just out of sight of the guard brought about quite a rise in him. He imagined standing next to her in the Inspector's office tomorrow, Chief Inspector, Meyers and Clegg in attendance, and him fighting to contain his urge to jump on his wife, to kiss her, touch her, make love to her, as his desires felt nearly uncontainable. " _I will have to find a way … I know! I'll book a room at the Windsor House Hotel for before the meeting!"_ he thought.

The children, as well as Eloise and Claire-Marie, were ecstatic over the news that Julia would be home tomorrow. The talk was hurried and happy, with many a plan in the making. They would make a banner welcoming her home. Each child wanted to make a special sign and a card for her too. Eloise would make her favorite dinner, and desert. William promised to bring home lots of flowers later tonight to help with the decorations, after he went to the hospitals for the investigation. He also called and booked the hotel room once he had a moment to himself. Informing them all that he hoped to be home before the children's bedtime, he headed out with the photos of Jane and Connor.

In the Don Jail lunchroom, Julia sat eating with three other women. As usual, Countess Fausta was doing most of the talking. "So doctor, it seems that having a silver spoon up your 'arse' does have its advantages just as I thought, heh?"

Julia sighed. It would be difficult for someone in the Countess' position (put away for life because she procured an abortion), to understand that her early release (for teaching about contraceptives) – at least this most recent early release, was due to her expertise rather than being due to the influence of whom she knew. She cleared her throat and tried to explain, again, "Countess, with all due respect, I must insist that you consider that it is merely due to the fact that as Toronto's Chief Coroner, and most experienced physician, I am needed to handle this … emergency. In actuality it is quite dangerous – life threatening even."

The youngest woman amongst them, the one who had fought alongside of Julia when Tipton and another inmate had tried to stab her, touched Julia's arm and said, "You will be careful, won't you?"

"Well, I'll certainly try. I will have the advantage of knowing there is poison present, the coroner who first handled this body did not have the opportunity to know that…" Julia explained.

The door swung open, taking everyone's attention. The Warden and a guard entered. The Warden had William's chocolates and his note for Julia. He said, "Sorry to interrupt ladies. Dr. Ogden, your husband sent this for you," handing Julia the box. Julia turned away from the group and opened the note as the Warden addressed the other women, "Have any of you been threatened by any of the other inmates as a result of your being pulled out to spend some time with Dr. Ogden?" All three dropped their heads – It was more dangerous to rat than to bear the brunt of McKinnon's anger and bullying. The Warden sighed and explained he was concerned and intended to post more guards, with the expectation that for the first week or so there would always be a guard watching out specifically for them.

While their conversation went on, Julia read William's note.

Julia,

Poets often write of feelings for their lover that are so strong, so overpowering, that they _**cannot**_ live without her. That is not quite it, I now know, having been kept apart from you. It is that you _**don't**_ live without her – I see now that the quality of my life without you is so changed that, in many ways, it is not really living at all. Something happens to time – Almost as if it freezes, and yet life goes on. I care for the children. I work. But, when I am with myself, I find that I am stuck, numb, troubled. I find breathing difficult, and not in that heavenly way that happens when I am with you, like when our eyes meet and I know that in the whole world it is you who I am meant to be with. No, rather it feels as if the block of ice I am locked within binds my chest, grips my breath, forces me to wait until I can be with you again to breathe. I write this now, shallow is my breath, waiting for only a few hours for you to join with me again, until I will be set free of this halted stillness, this barrenness. Worry is there, under the surface, pounding my heart with fear, for your safety is not guaranteed once you're back with me. But, my need for you dwarfs the fear. I am overjoyed to know I will hold you tomorrow, my love. I will be there as they open the gate and set you free, free to be together once more, to re-start life, to have you by my side. Ten o'clock we begin again.

William

Warmth filled her heart, as expectation and hope eagerly flowed through her veins. She loved him so, and he her. Excitement tingled her skin, she could hardly wait. Pulled back into the room when the Warden bid her goodnight, she gasped, not having realized that she herself was also holding her breath with anticipation. "Goodnight sir," she replied. Julia turned in her seat, leaned towards her companions and placed the box of chocolates in the center of the table. "Let's celebrate!" she said. Keen grins covered their faces; she wouldn't have to ask them twice. "I so much want to thank each of you for your companionship. Please know you have made an awful situation bearable," she offered. Knowing the plight of each of these women, she made some promises. She would fight to change laws and get them reversibly freed. She would look into other suspects for the youngest woman who claimed to be innocent of the crime. She also said she would visit.

" _The first hospital – That was lucky,"_ thought William. He was in a carriage on his way home – early enough to share their family tradition of having a snack and then reading to children. " _They are reading "Treasure Island" I believe,_ " he remembered. His mind drifted to the clues he found left in the hospital bathroom by Jane. He wondered if she was scared – The nurse reported not only serious injuries to Jane, but a controlling, brutish behavior towards her from Connor. They did not use these names, but the photos and the description of Connor's scar provided enough for a positive identification. The only place she could get away from his oversight was in the ladies room. Under the toilet lid, William had found it – rolled up in toilet paper and wedged into the bottom of the lid. There was a hat pin (decorated with a naked man and woman kissing) and a typewriter key (an "A"). William expected that Clegg would be excited to hear the news of the clues, and that maybe he would have some ideas about what Jane meant by leaving them. He figured the hat pin was to provide positive identification of her, that Clegg would know it was from her based on the pin. And possibly the "A" was meant to signify Aasen Corporation, but he was far from sure. A memory of Jane approaching him, naked and seductive, flooded his mind. His body reacted. " _It's no wonder that Clegg would have a thing for her,"_ he thought, " _She really is quite attractive and enthralling."_ He sighed and pushed the memory as far away as he could.

After eating cookies and reading a chapter of "Treasure Island," the children, already in their pajamas and being up past their bedtime, asked for another story. Well actually, his two daughters asked for him to read them Cinderella. William Jr. moaned and complained, as would be expected.

William suggested they had seen enough of Cinderella for one day, thanks to Mrs. Brackenreid. "How about a different fairytale?" he said, getting up and walking over to their row of books on the bookshelf. He pulled out "Snow White." As soon as the girls saw the book they got excited.

"Oh yes, Daddy!" Chelsea exclaimed.

William looked at his son. "Well, it's "Snow White" or bed?" he said, wrinkling the corner of his mouth.

William Jr. plopped back down in his chair and sighed, "Snow White," he glumly answered.

As William read the story, he felt a familiarity, an uncanny feeling that there were double-meanings and connections between the fairytale and their reality. Perhaps the fact that Snow White was poisoned, once with a hair comb and then again with an apple, and that in real life he was doing all he could think of to protect his Snow White, – Julia, from being poisoned. When he got to the end, and the Prince kissed Snow White, awakening her from her death-like sleep and saving her, Katie and Chelsea cheered and said that it was just like him and Mommy, because he had saved Mommy so many times – just like the handsome Prince in the story. They asked him to tell a story of one time he had saved Mommy. Even William Jr. perked up with that request.

He told them about the time when Julia, who was working at the asylum at the time, had taken in a patient from one of his cases. The woman refused to move. Julia was trying to help the woman see that it was because she was paralyzed with fear from witnessing a murder. The woman was terrified that the huge, monstrous man she saw kill another was coming to get her. "In reality, such a scary man was coming to get the woman – and Mommy too. But I figured out who he was and rushed over to the asylum, which is kind of like a scary castle, and I jumped on the monstrous man and stopped him right before it was almost too late. The End. Now bed," William said. "Your Mommy will be home tomorrow…" Cheers broke out all around. "You should be tired from making all these signs and that lovely banner. You'll need lots of energy to decorate before Mommy gets home tomorrow night," he explained as he lifted Chelsea up and placed on his hip. They headed upstairs, brushed their teeth and went to sleep.

William worked out and then took a shower. He packed a bag to take to the hotel tomorrow. Sitting out on the porch in his pajamas, waiting for 10:00 to share the night sky with his wife who felt so very far away, his mind drifted to the story of Snow White and the eerie feeling he had in his gut. He remembered the bad dreams he had had last night, with the children being trapped in an hour glass, and Julia helping him save them from within her grave. He told himself that such dreams explained the worrisome feeling. That all evidence was that nothing bad was likely to happen. He was pretty sure that the Hazardous Materials Suits would work, although they would be very uncomfortable and annoying to have to wear. Softly, he sang the song he'd written for Julia over the years, hoping that the magic connection he had always had with her would bring the song to her heart and that she would know how much he loved her – that she would feel his love for her right then, at that very moment in time.

Julia re-read the note from William. She wondered if she might be too excited about tomorrow to sleep. Lying in her prison bed, for what she hoped would be the very last time, she imagined seeing Reynolds dead on the floor in the morgue next to the slab with the body that had been booby-trapped to kill him. She would need to ascertain quickly where the poison was and how to render it harmless. She definitely felt stressed. But soon, her mind drifted to seeing William outside of the gate tomorrow – when she would walk out free. She had a fantasy.

The carriage jerked forward, they were on their way – away from the Don Jail and towards the Stationhouse where she would prepare for a life-threatening task. She felt him looking at her. She knew that when she looked back at him, she would be cast under his spell – that he would take her breath away. She waited for a moment, dropped her head to look down at her hands, feeling grateful to destiny that she had **his** rings on her finger. " _He is impatient_ ," she thought as he took one of her curls in his hand, sending a bolt of excitement through her flesh on a direct route to her womb, then flipping and spinning it at the same time. She brought her eyes to meet his, so very big, dark, and warm. " _Oh here it comes_ ," she thought as air seemed to flow out of her into him, dragging her along in the wake of its wind. She tilted her head, inviting him to kiss her. The kiss was heated, desperate, rushed. She moaned, feeling herself weakening with need for him. She wanted to speak, to tell him how much she had missed him, but her mind was spinning so that words would not come. They clung and dug at each other, wanting to be closer together than their clothing and their separate bodies would allow. Desperate to touch what she had been forbidden for so long, she reached down and undid his belt, then the buttons to his trousers. William's moan was delicious. Their kisses so deep and rough. He filled her hand, warm, firm. He moaned again. She truly believed there was no sound in the world more exquisite than the one he had just made. So quickly his pants were down, and she found herself on her knees on the carriage floor, belly to the seat. He was behind her, lifting her skirt, lowering her bloomers. He leaned over her, covered her, his hot breath rolled across her ear, rumbling, calling for her. She was completely helpless with need for him. "Please," she heard her voice whispery as it begged. " _Oh, yes_ " she thought when she felt him push her thighs apart and touch her where she so wanted to be touched. " _Here it comes_ ," swam in her brain as she felt her insides sliding, yielding, taking him in. "Please William," she said. His lovemaking was powerful, demanding – rough. Wildly her insides writhed out of control. She heard him moan and his strokes surged deep and strong into her very core. Like a flower blooming from the inside out, she erupted – hot, melting, floating, swirly delight overcame her.

Julia marveled at herself. " _If that happens when I'm awake, what will my dreams be like?"_ she thought, feeling the smile on her face grow as she thought, " _What will tomorrow be like?"_

William had decided to try to sleep this last night in their bed. **He dreamt he was behind Julia at her vanity, lacing up her corset. He was feeling aroused. He kissed her neck, slid his hands around to cup and knead her breasts. She moaned. There was a movement in the mirror, and his focus shifted to see himself in the bed. Suddenly he was in the bed, propped up on an elbow looking at the vanity. Eva Pearce stood in front of it, where Julia had been. She asked the mirror, "Who is the fairest of them all?" The mirror answered – IN WILLIAM'S OWN VOICE – "Julia is the fairest of them all." Eva was furious. Her hands whipped around and she cast a spell into the mirror. Then she turned to face him, anger had slid away. Lust, at its most rugged a deepest, exuded from her. He felt both terror and thrill ignite within him as she approached. Oh, he wanted her. She knew it. She lay down next to him. Took his mouth in a kiss. Her hand explored his chest admiringly, her breath betraying her satisfaction in his ear. He was hard with desire. "** _ **How can I hide it?**_ **" he thought. At that moment she touched him, surrounding him in a hot electrified energy that empowered and weakened him. He looked at her, but now she was Jane, no longer Eva. "I can't,** _ **"**_ **he said, sounding more like a plea than a statement.**

 **Eva's voice came from Jane when she spoke, "It's no use, she's gone, and she knows you found another more fair! Ha-ha-ha," her wicked laugh sang.**

 **William panicked, thinking Julia had been poisoned. He asked Eva demandingly, "Did you poison her?!"**

" **Only upon reflection will you know," and 'poof' she was gone.**

 **William cautiously approached the vanity mirror. He saw himself, felt his guilt and despair as it became noticeable on his face. And yet, his fear that Julia was gone swelled up and overtook all of his other features. He heard it at exactly the same time he saw it. Her crying – inside the mirror. Julia sobbed, turned to look at him and asked, "Why did you stop loving me?"**

 **His heart both seized and broke. Thinking that he had caused her such pain wilted him, defeated him. But he knew it was not true. "** _ **Fight through the shock and the guilt. Tell her the truth,**_ **" he coached himself. "I never stopped loving you Julia," he pleaded, "I have always loved you – only you. And it is only you that I love still."**

 **Through her sobs Julia said, "I saw you William – I saw you … with them."**

 **His head was pounding, his heart was pounding and he was finding it hard to breathe. Dizzy and panicked he heard himself say, "Just my body Julia, just my body reacting to them… Not my soul – Not me. You know me Julia, as no one else does. Please remember what you know – That I love you, with undying devotion… Please know," he said as he fell into tears. He found himself kneeling over the mirror with Julia in it – The mirror was now on the floor. When his tear dropped down on to the mirror, it rippled, having become the surface of a lake. Julia floated up, too late. She had died.** William's sobs awakened him.

He bolted up, held his chest, fought to find where he was – what was real. " _Oh, thank God_ ," he thought. " _Tomorrow. I'll be with her tomorrow,_ " he reminded himself. " _I still have time – Time to make sure she knows how much I love her,_ " he planned. As he carried the bedding down to the couch he thought, " _I guess I will have to tell her about what happened with Jane too – Just to be able to live with myself."_ Before he drifted off to sleep, he remembered nearly losing control of himself as he pinned her against the prison wall. He was very pleased to realize that even when it came down to just how his body reacted to women, Julia was truly the fairest of them all.


	6. Chapter 6

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 6: Thursday, August 7, 1913

The carriage pulled up to the front gate of the Don Jail. The day was incredibly hot, and William was already sweating even though it was not even 10:00 in the morning yet. He left the bag he had packed in the carriage and instructed the driver to wait. As the Warden had planned, the crowd was held at bay by a tape and some guards. William marveled at the size of the crowd – protesters both for and against contraception, and by the sound of the cameras clicking away at him, a large number from the press as well. Only a moment before he reached the gate to enter, it opened and the Warden appeared with Julia and a guard. His heart thumped so in his chest. It was really true – she was coming home. He pulled his hat from his head and shook the Wardens hand (click, click the camera shutters went). The moment Julia appeared the crowd grew into a roar, protesters yelling, her surprisingly numerous supporters cheering.

It seemed that she saw only him. "William," she said. Somehow she looked so vulnerable – It tugged at his insides. He stepped closer to her and took her in his arms, evoking an even louder cheer from the crowd. As a unique and often news-worthy couple, the Murdoch's had become famous and somewhat popular. He gave her a brief kiss.

Some of the calls from the crowd became loud enough, distinct enough to be heard – "Dr. Ogden, How does it feel to be free?" "Are you frightened about confronting the poison trap?"

Once her attention was drawn to them, she lifted her hand to shade her eyes and took in the impressive sight. "Oh my God William," she declared.

He leaned close to her ear and replied, "Well, you said you wanted to draw attention to your cause. You are quite a celebrity; it's the talk of the town." He turned to take in the view of the crowd, "It has only gotten bigger since your sentence was first set down," he said, dropping his eyes to draw attention to the three-day old newspapers from back then that she cradled in an arm.

She felt both overwhelmed by the size and energy of the crowd, and empowered by this … amazing man, this man who seemed to always say the right thing. She turned her head, held his eye, hoped with all her heart he could see how very appreciative she was to have him love and care for her so.

"What?" he asked.

"You know what," she answered.

"Do I?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

"You do," she asserted, reaching up and stroking his tie. She brought her lips to his again. The crowd erupted into cheers again. "I guess they are happy for us," she suggested.

"Mm," he replied.

Julia asked, "Do you think I should go talk to the press – I mean I did want the publicity, as you said."

William worried. He'd been hounded by the press at the courthouse a couple of times now, and he didn't think Julia knew how harsh they would be. Even the bundled up newspapers she carried in her arm right now showed how inconsistent and ruthless the press can be. He warned, "Julia, although you have quite a few supporters, there are many that would like to hurt you with their stories – And even those on your side who would sell out for anything they thought were … juicy for the masses to read."

Julia turned to the Warden and asked if it would be possible to allow just one reporter to come speak with her. He agreed and had the guard send over the reporter from the Toronto Gazette. Julia was able to talk with him about the noble cause she was fighting for – the right to learn about and use contraception. She even risked scandal by mentioning abortion, as she had met women inside that would be there for life for having helped women procure abortions, some of them to save their own lives, and she felt the laws should at least be considered as too harsh in such cases.

After the reporter finished with Julia he asked William a question, "Some say you killed the coroner – Reynolds, to get your wife freed… Knowing that only she would be considered able to safely handle the poison trap, and thus be let out on parole?"

William and Julia were both taken aback – neither of them had heard such allegations, and hadn't even considered such a possibility. Looking slightly stunned, William responded, "I love Julia, missed her terribly, our children suffered without their mother as well. It is true I wanted her freed, but NO, No I did not, and would not, do such a thing."

Julia interjected, "Ben Reynolds was a colleague and a friend. We mourn his loss. Frankly, it's insulting that you would think such a thing possible!"

She was sounding more and more heated, and William decided to pull her away before the situation escalated to dangerous levels. "That's all we have to say. Thank you for your time and good-day," he said, taking Julia by the arm and leading her to the carriage.

She plopped down on the seat and exhaled sharply. He could tell she was riled up. He sat next to her and closed the carriage door. The driver already knew where to go. She slapped her hand down on her lap and said, "The nerve …"

William simply reached over and took her chin in his fingers, turned her face to him, tenderly ran his thumb across her lips. She held his eyes for a moment and then let out a sigh. She pressed her back deeper into the seat and looked out the window as they pulled away from the prison, as they passed through the now rancorous crowd. Only when she sat quiet for a moment did she notice it – The overwhelming attack of the outside world on her senses. The light was so bright, the temperature so hot, the sounds so loud, the smell of mud and horse manure reeked. She had been locked away in a place that was too quiet, too dark, with barely any stimulation of any kind, and now, out in all of this, she felt utterly engulfed and crushed by all the activity and sensations. She wondered how much worse it would probably feel for someone who had been in prison for years. It was troubling. Then she remembered William – quiet, by her side. Only last night she had fantasized about wildly making love with him while on this very carriage ride. That seemed entirely impossible right now.

Her eye fell to the bag on the floor. "You packed a bag?" she asked.

He was wondering about the wisdom of his plan. Romance seemed surprisingly far way right now, although he was not quite sure why. He felt embarrassed about the blatant and selfishly hedonistic reasons he had for having booked a hotel room. He tried to explain, "I, uh …Yes. Um…"

He had her attention.

"I booked us a room at the Windsor House Hotel. We don't need to be to the station until 2:00, and you won't be …um, you don't have to go to the morgue at Stationhouse #5 until tomorrow," he said.

"Oh, I see," she said. She looked back out the window. She wondered if he would explain his motives, although she knew them, loved him for them. He fidgeted and moved about. " _He is definitely uncomfortable_ ," she thought, with a little internal giggle of delight.

"Um, Julia, This meeting we have – at 2:00, It is with the Inspector and the Chief Inspector, and Meyers , and Clegg, and … it's important, about this whole poisoning mess and, I … I was concerned I would …" William stopped. He wasn't sure he could say it so plainly. He sighed.

She turned to him. He lifted his head, met her eyes. He looked so hopeful. She smiled. He breathed as relief flowed through him. "Come here," she said. He slid over, confidence building within him, and she took his hand. She couldn't be more in love. A tilt of her head was all it took. They kissed passionately, hands exploring the body of the other, setting flames to desires, racing hearts and breathing rates. It seemed to take mere seconds before the carriage arrived in the front of the Windsor House Hotel.

The clerk recognized them, welcomed them. They had the same suite they'd lived in years ago -312. William closed the door behind them and took the bag into the bedroom to place it on the bed. He quickly joined Julia in the living room, where she wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed his hands on her hips.

William bowed slightly to her and said, "I have missed you."

"And I you," she replied. She reached around the back of his head and took a handful of his hair. "You need a haircut," she said.

"Mm," he explained, "With the children and work, I just couldn't find the time."

She sighed and reflected, "Yes, it seems I had too much time on my hands – and you too little. I'm sorry William. I know it must have been hard." He kissed her. She broke the kiss off rather quickly and said, "William, I know this is silly … But I feel somewhat nervous." She saw concern on his face and regretted having said it. "Um, I mean, it kind of feels like we're on our honeymoon… Like we, um…" She slid her hands down to his chest, played with his tie, and tried to explain better, "I have, and I believe you have, imagined making love with you so very much since I have been away. And, well, I am worried that with all that expectation, well I think you might be disappointed."

He chuckled. She was glad, she so loved his laugh. He slid his hands up the small of her back, calling her insides to alert, desire was growing in her. He said, leaning closer to her ear, "I do not think I will be disappointed." He kissed her neck. His breath flooded her skin. She knew her head would start to spin with lustful need, and yet, she still felt uncomfortable. She pulled back and said, "I'm sorry William. Perhaps a bath … It has been too long since I have been properly clean."

William stepped back even further, "Of course," he said. "I'll order us some lunch?" he suggested.

"That sounds delightful," she replied, "French toast for me!" And she headed to the bathroom.

He called after her, "I packed some of your favorite soap, and your shampoo."

She opened the bag and marveled at her husband. He had packed everything she could want. She could hear him on the phone now – He knew the man on the other end. " _Amazing, it was ten years ago_ ," she thought.

William ordered some champagne and two glasses, as well as their meals by the time Julia stood before him, now only wearing her corset and bloomers. She had a seductive look in her eyes, twinkling and dancing their magnetic blue. While he tried to concentrate on sounding coherent to the man on the other end of the phone, working hard to focus on deserts, she undid his tie, and then some buttons on his shirt. She had undone all of the buttons on his vest and most on his shirt before he hung up the phone – his self-control still intact, barely. Before he could protest, she covered his mouth with her finger to silence him and said, "Undo me." She turned and he loosened the strings on her corset. He was aroused, but fought the urge to kiss her or explore any other parts of her body. Once her corset had been removed she turned back to him and said, her voice husky with want, "Windsor House installed showers. Come take one with me."

Warm, steamy water poured down from above, flooding their skin. Julia lathered up her hands with soap and smoothly rubbed and slid her hands all over his chest, his shoulders, his upper arms, admiring his muscles, feeling her own insides tighten and twist in response to the touch. "I do say, William, these muscles seem even more exquisite than before I left for the prison," she declared.

"Less time sleeping and making love – More time making muscles," he explained.

"It seems it was time well spent... Just lovely," she said with passion in her eyes as they dilated to soak him in. She stepped close to him, letting the suds slip and slide between them. Up and down across his skin. He could feel her breasts mold and bend to fit against him as she moved. Usually the quiet one, a moan escaped from his throat. The room was spinning. He felt he might lose control. He roughly took her in a kiss. The taste of her lips, liquidy and intensified from the water flowing down over them, set a fire in him, creating a voracious hunger to take her. He reached down, firmly took a hold of her buttocks and lifted as he pulled her tighter to him. Now it was Julia who moaned.

He had grown very erect, and she could feel him pressing strongly into the hair at the crown of her crotch. " _Oh, I have to have him, touch him_ ," she thought as she reached once more for the soap and lathered up her hands. Julia stepped back and reached down, surrounding him first with one hand and then, once that hand had slid up to the top, adding the other hand below it. She squeezed her top fingers together and slid her top hand down over him repeatedly, causing the top of him to push up through her taught fingers. She thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of the skin around his tip catching against her fingers as she slid her fist back up before the next time she would cause him to push up through her fingers again.

William's hips thrust forward, once, then again. He was crazed with need. He turned her around, frantically explored the front of her body with his hands from behind; along her smooth, flat belly, up her ribs, to cup, squeeze, and press her breasts. "Oh my god you feel good," he said into her ear, burning his breath into her soul.

The tension she felt in her womb nearly singed her, surging her back into an arch, pulling her buttocks up tightly into him. "William," she pleaded, "Please." They separated briefly, him to let the water rinse the soap off of him, her to fumble with the shower curtain to make enough slack in it that she could lean forward and place her chest against the tiled bathroom wall. He stepped back in close to her, bent forward over her. She gasped as he took a firm hold of her hips and she felt him breach her slippery entrance. " _Oh my God,_ " she thought as she felt him drive into her. Irrepressibly, "Yes! Yes!" she cried out. "Please William, Please … deeper!"

He pushed forcefully into her, nearly touching her deepest center. He was so close.

" _Hurry_ ," she said to herself, reaching down to touch herself, escalating the stimulation he was giving her.

"Right there," she heard him utter, starting to go over the edge. She pumped wildly, " _Oh yes_ ," she thought. " _Oh yes_ ," as she felt the edges of her insides begin to untwist and burn. Now all she had to do was wait for the wave of pleasure that would flood over her, "Mmm," she moaned as it arrived and she felt him burst inside of her, seeming to send a warm glow outward to every cell in her body, filling her with bliss.

Stillness, except for their rapid hearts and roaring breath and the rumble of the shower. He took her ear lobe in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. She straightened up, leaned back heavier against him while he wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist. "Oh, how I've missed this," Julia's breathy voice shared. She could feel his smile form as the tension of his lips against her ear stretched. It was not possible to be more content.

"I should go – Lunch will likely arrive any minute," he said. She turned around and nestled into his arms. She didn't want to let him go – at least not yet. He understood, stayed, held her, breathed with her. After a few moments she released him.

Outside of the shower, towel around his waist, Julia asked him, "Oh, William, can you help me get this knot out of the French braid you put in my hair?"

"I have a pocketknife – I'll be right back," he answered. He stepped back into the shower, she turned her back to him and he cut Katie's bootlace and then slid the braid out to enable her to free her curls.

"Such a handy little tool that is, hmm?" she said. Right there and then he decided he would be buying her one, she was just as likely as him to need it someday. Just as he wrapped the towel around his waist again, there was a knock at the door. He decided to forego the towel, dropping it back on the floor, and quickly put on the complimentary men's robe hanging behind the bathroom door. Once the lunch was laid out on the table, William poured both glasses of champagne.

Julia soon joined him, also dressed in the hotel's complimentary robe. He stood and walked over to the two glasses of champagne on the counter, offering one to her.

"But William, I know you to only very rarely drink alcohol," she said.

Knowing it would bring to mind one of their favorite memories – of drinking absinthe in the park and nearly making love, he replied, "Yes, only on special occasions."

She knew her line, saying, "And this is one," with the slightest of smiles at the end of the sentence. They each smiled.

"Yes," he answered, with a slight bow. She took her glass from him and they toasted to freedom. Over lunch, they discussed the case, or possibly cases if they weren't actually connected, and William filled her in on his plans for using the Hazardous Materials Suits when working in the morgue with the poison. They also discussed the children and all the people who had helped care for them while she was away.

After they packed up the dirty dishes, Julia pushed the cart out into the hall to be picked up by the staff. She closed the door and leaned back against it, bringing her eyes to meet his across the room. Gazes locked together, they each breathed and focused on the feelings the other stirred inside of them. Julia was the first to break the trance, approaching her husband, reaching up to trace the edge of the collar of his robe, making sure her fingers glanced along his skin. She stood close enough to him that one of her strands of curls blew in the breeze as the waves of his breath flowed across it.

William couldn't resist its temptation and took the lock in his fingers, twisting and teasing it. "We still have nearly an hour till we need to leave," he said.

"And, have you any ideas on how we could spend this hour?" she asked provocatively, tilting her head and ducking her lips just under his, placing them tantalizingly close to his.

He leaned in, whispered in her ear, "Ishinpō." (Ishinpō is an ancient Chinese method of lovemaking in which the man puts off his urges to tease and pleasure the woman, culminating in lovemaking that is extremely pleasurable for both of them).

Julia was surprised at the way just William's voice saying the word "Ishinpō" could penetratingly arouse her. She started to feel that lovely swirling in her head, making speech challenging. She simply responded, "Mmm … delightful."

William asked her to retrieve the ice bucket from the food cart in the hall and to meet him in the bedroom. He found the Chinese scented oils he had packed in the bag. Taking the ice bucket from his wife, he reached down and undid the sash of her robe, pushing the garment to the sides to reveal some of her feminine curves. She watched as his eyes grew wide with the sight of her. Lust swelled in him, his breath on her was hot and strong. His first attempt to speak failed as his voice was dry. He cleared his throat and instructed, "Take the robe off and lie down on the bed on your stomach." He turned and went into the bathroom. There he filled the bucket with hot water, added a few drops of the Chinese oils and drenched a washcloth in the bucket. Returning to the bedroom he was greeted by the most beautiful sight he may ever have seen. His wife, her curvaceous and firm derriere completely exposed, inviting and vulnerable, was laid out before him. The thunderbolt traveled immediately to his groin. " _William_ ," he coached himself, " _Self-control_." He dropped his robe and then kneeled in front of her feet at the end of the bed, placing the hot water down on the floor next to him.

He used the hot washcloth to warm, relax and soothe her feet before massaging them. After a few moments, he intensified his attention to rubbing, kissing and sucking on her arches, and then her ankles. Her moans of pleasure verified Ishinpō theory, that the feet harbor much sexual energy. Each of her enchanting utterances, combined with the twisting and clenching of her muscles as she writhed and arched in response to her growing desires, caused his own lustful flames to burn higher. He worked his way up her legs, massaging, kissing, and treasuring each inch of her flesh. Upon reaching her buttocks, he had to strain to control himself, for, in between those two round, half-moons of moldable flesh, there rested her slippery, pink offering. It was an offering he would delay taking, one he would tease and tempt, increasing its ripeness, flooding it with need for him. She spread her thighs, inviting him in. He breathed over her, kissed around her, bit and sucked on the firm flesh near her. Desire arched her back, an uncontrollable response to his teasing, lifting that which most lured him up closer, as she moaned and wriggled with yearning. "Please William," she begged, then twisted and tensed, pleading, "Oh my God, William," only to have him move on past the spot where she most ached for his touch.

He slowly slid upwards over her body, allowing her to feel the superb sensation of skin sliding over skin, intentionally catching his firm, erect, maleness within the crevice of her buttocks. He let his weight press down into her back, stealing her breath, and then he tantalized and tortured her neck, her ears, with his mouth. Rolling her over onto her back, he laid the hot, moist cloth over her face, and then sucked, kissed, and nibbled her neck, her shoulders, her upper arms. He removed the cloth and then cherished her face with his hands, then his mouth. He kneaded every inch of her. Her underarms suffered excruciating focus from his mouth, creating a deluge of sweltering urgency deep within her. He worshipped her breasts, before his own urges overtook the wildness of his caresses, driving him to squeeze, suck and nip fiercely on them. Thrilling him, as such roughness seemed to urge her on stronger, intensifying her moans and abandoned twitches.

His hot breath finally stoked the fires just above her opening. She weakened and dropped into a floaty daze as his velvety tongue finally slid onto her most sensitive spot, evoking her womb to flip and soar. Her moan was deep and desperate, evoking a moan from him as well, as his body demanded a deeper contact. With all his might, he held off. He took her gently into his mouth, gliding his tongue across her while he pushed down firmly against her, providing both the pressure and the rhythm she needed. Her hips began to pump. He knew he had her. She was nearly at the edge. Her insides were so tight with want that she had to grip and twist the blanket to withstand the sweet agony of it. Her breathing changed – her breath caught as she teetered, about to fall. William was attuned and knew the moment of ecstasy was about to unfold. He pressed down onto her harder and he moaned in anticipation, pushing her over the edge, surging her hips into a stronger, slower motion as a heavenly moan escaped from her throat. Husky she called out, "Oh yes … Oh my God … Yes William." Her motion ceased and she swallowed. "Oh my God," she said again as she felt the heat spreading throughout her in ripples of pleasure, the room's spinning slowing.

William rubbed his face against the inside of her thigh, drying it. He softly kissed his way up to her face. He rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him to rest her head on his chest. He kissed and stroked her hair; waiting with her while she recovered.

Her breathing slower, she said, "I feel totally weak … limp … absolutely wonderful, William." She knew she wanted to do to him what he had done to her, but she felt virtually unable to move. Love for him pushed her, and she began to kiss and nibble on his chest. She slowly worked her way down to his groin, warmly taking him into her mouth.

He moaned, the sensations nearly causing him to come undone. He wanted his ultimate release to be inside of her. Reaching down, he smoothly took her face in his hands, lifted her away from him and slid out of her mouth. She understood. With a kiss or two to his belly, she sat up, slid a leg over him and straddled him, high enough up on her knees that she could take him in her hands underneath her. Placing him at her entrance, she slowly sank her weight down, encompassing him, taking him in. He felt her slippery, warm resistance yielding around him. Eyes wide and dark with desire, he watched as he disappeared into her gorgeous body, becoming one with her. He pushed up into her, wanting to touch her deepest point. He lost his breath, lost his mind, as he saw her breasts jiggle in response to each of his thrusts. " _Explode, I'm going to explode_ ," he thought. Julia lay down on his chest, tilted her head, and took his neck aggressively, sucking against the skin, sure to leave a mark. William paused, forcing himself to stay in control. His breath was ragged, she knew he was desperate, struggling, about to give in to his desires. She released his tortured skin and whispered tauntingly in his ear, "Take me."

Every ounce of control burst away from him. He wanted only one thing – to be so deep inside of her that he would have to erupt. He flipped her over onto her back and bore into her with all of his might.

"Oh my God … Yes William … Deeper, Please," she begged of him.

Able to focus on only one thing, he honed in on surging deeper into her. Pulsating into his ear, submerging his brain, there was a beat of dizzying gasps from her at the end of each of his forceful strokes. He lost everything else. " _Right there_ ," he thought, feeling so close, nearly touching her delicious core. " _Oh my God_ ," surged through his mind. " _Right there, Yes, Right there,_ " his thoughts flowed through his brain as pleasure gushed outward. His strokes stretched out, consumed his entire body, driving him deeper, stronger into her. Fireworks of ecstasy rushed to his edges as he heard her exquisite voice, moaning - "Mmm," and he felt her walls clamp around him, hugging him tight, sucking him farther up into her.

The strong, smooth rhythm of their lovemaking stopped, leaving them with only the pulse of their rapid hearts and rushed breaths. Julia was crying. Tears had drenched her face even before the stillness had come. She was completely overwhelmed with exhaustion, with having been cared for so intensely, with knowing that so much of her life had been without such love, and with subconscious memories of pain, of fear, and of hope. He held her tightly in response to the shaking of her body with her soft sobs, cradling her, grounding her. Rolling over to place her on top of him, he stroked the tears from her cheeks, tenderly played with her curls, kissed her ear, her cheek. He loved her with every ounce, every drop, that he had … A few deep breaths – she followed suit. Spent, consumed, she said, "I have been thoroughly loved, William – thoroughly and completely loved."

She felt his warm breath roll over her before he replied, "Good. Perhaps, even, as Ruby would say, magnificent?"

She chuckled, "Mm," she answered, kissing his chest.

"I'm so very happy, Julia," he added, receiving a squeeze of glee from her. He reached over to lift his pocket watch off the table and checked the time. "We should be there in 20 minutes," he said. They both knew that meant they would be late. They hurried. The bag William had packed had a fresh set of clothes for her. He helped her with her corset. Both done dressing, only Julia's hair left to finish, she sat at the vanity while William leaned his buttocks against it, conversing with her.

"Um, Julia … There's something that has been bothering me … Something I need to tell you about that happened while you were away, that's been … I have been feeling guilty – having dreams," he started.

"Oh," she replied. She stayed looking at her reflection in the mirror, working on her hair, but he had her attention.

He stammered, knowing once he said it there would be no turning back, "Well, uh … remember when I visited you and I had a bump on me head…"

"Yes," she said.

He took a deep breath and pushed on, "Well, I … had been trying to find this man, Connor, but at the time I only had a description – he had a scar and an Irish accent. Well, the trail led to a particular prostitute … named Jane…"

Julia was starting to get it – he wanted to confess some attraction, or worse, with this Jane. Her interest was piqued – she had a warm loving feeling towards him, so morally good to be so troubled, and yet she was worried that maybe he had betrayed her. She took a deep breath, "Go on," she said.

"Uh, well," he continued, clearing his throat, "When I got to her room, and she said to come in … well, I didn't know there was someone – probably Connor, behind the door … And she most likely was trying to distract me, which she did. Um, she had on only these little knickers, kind of like the ones that go with your blue … lingerie. And she, um, turned around and bent over, pulling them down … and I, uh…" He was really struggling now. Julia had stopped (her hair was done) and turned to look more directly at him. William exhaled sharply, trying to calm down and continued, "She walked up to me, touched me, and kissed me…" Julia lifted an eyebrow at him, raising his concern. Another deep breath, "I … She …"

Julia said, slowly, "Oh I see... Did you desire her?" resting her chin in her hand, trying to be more a psychiatrist than his lover, his wife.

He sighed, remembering her asking a similar question of him back when Eva Pearce had flirted with him during an interview, "I did … Um, she touched me … She knew I desired her. But, Julia, err… this is different than when I dreamed about Eva Pearce. This was not a dream – This was in real life." He dropped his eyes, feeling ashamed. William decided to finish the story, "The man behind me pushed his gun against the back of my head and cocked it, I made a move, tried to tackle him – That's when he hit me, knocked me out. But, the worst part is that … I had thoughts after that, even dreams." He turned to look at her, not catching her eye as she had shifted her focus back into the mirror.

She was delaying responding, admittedly upset, but trying to remind herself of William's steadfast loyalty and devotion to her. Reason told her that there was no point in digging this knife into him any deeper – He had already made quite a wound all on his own. She pulled a few curls free to dance playfully about her face, took a deep breath and stood before him. "William – I know you love only me, you say you always have and always will – That after you met me you knew I was the one for you. You say you had loved Liza, but at the time you believed that such a love as the one we have now was not possible. I believe you feel this way. And I know you are human and you will find other women attractive – and as I get older, you may even find other women more attractive than me..." William shook his head no. She stepped closer to him, fondled his tie and shirt collar and said, "So, I guess the relevant question right now is – to you, William Murdoch, **Who is the fairest of them all?** "

The question disturbed him, a creepy feeling from his dream the night before crawled into his gut, slithered up into his brain, making it hard to think.

"William? You should tell me that I am the fairest of them all," she teased, hoping that her playfulness would put him at ease.

William struggled to pull himself out of the unnerving quagmire, tried to shake it off. "Of course," he said, "And you are … the fairest. But, well, the dream I had, um I had it after I read Snow White to the children last night, and in it, Eva asked that those exact words into our vanity mirror, up in our bedroom. When Eva heard that _**you**_ were fairest, well … She trapped you in the mirror – And you watched me… me with Eva, and then with Jane. You were devastated … in the dream, and you didn't believe me anymore when I told you I loved you."

Inside, Julia smiled to herself. This man, such a wonder … He dreams of the pleasure and reprimands himself for it in the very same dream. She sighed, "It was just a dream William," she said. She pondered for a moment and then added, "Although it is a little uncanny, I mean how now I have this, " **poison** " to deal with... I'm sure it is just coincidence, hmm?"

Making an effort to sound convinced, William replied, "Yes, of course… We should get going." They rushed out, Julia grabbing her purse and bundle of newspapers, and William grabbing the bag of dirty clothes and sundries.

In the carriage on their way to the meeting at the station, Julia asked William, "Do you think you obsessed with this woman, Jane, because I was not around?"

Seeming to take some offense, William answered, "I don't think I was obsessed, Julia…" He sighed, "But your absence, well, I must admit, it left me quite inclined to fantasize and dream more…"

She wrapped her arm in his and squeezed it tight, interrupting him to say, "As was I." She took his cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across the slight stubble on his chin.

He dropped his eyes, working to formulate what he wanted to say, " _She's the fairest_ ," he thought to himself. A deep breath and his eyes rose to meet hers. There was a power in the look; they both felt it. "Julia, when I think of how crazed and desperate with desire I was for you, how much I wanted …" He looked to the ceiling, the heavens, suffering with his Catholic upbringing making speaking about such urges unacceptable, and then looked back into her blue, entrancing eyes once again, he continued, "Julia, I have never desired a woman more in my life."

"So, _**I'm**_ the fairest of them all?" she teased.

William's smile answered her. "Yes, milady, _**you**_ are the fairest of them all," he said with a bow, then leaning in to kiss her.

" _Oh, my God, this man is winsome_ ," she thought as she succumbed to the flood of dizziness such a passionate kiss riled in her.

The carriage pulled up to Stationhouse #4 at 2:15 PM. The Inspector was waiting for them at the door, looking agitated and tense. "Well, don't the two of you look happy – not a care in the world," he said sarcastically. Concern swept over William's face. Brackenreid added, "I've got Chief Inspector Davis, Meyers, and Clegg in my office …"

"Sorry sir," William offered.

Julia, still a big grin on her glowing face, took William's arm, leaned into him, and said, "William took me out for a romantic lunch, Inspector – at the Windsor House Hotel…"

Raising an eyebrow, the Inspector snidely replied, "Oh, lunch … at a hotel?"

Julia squeezed tightly against her husband, contentment spewing off of her and said, ""Yes. It was delightful. I haven't had a good … meal in quite some time. You should try it with Margaret – it's quite stimulating." Her statement caused a somewhat crimson complexion to appear on her husband's face.

The Inspector rolled his eyes, "Come on lovebirds, we've got serious work to do," he said. William and Julia went quickly into William's office and the Inspector stopped by George's desk, informing him not to let anyone disturb them during the meeting.

In William's office, Julia placed her purse and bundle of newspapers on his desk as her eyes drifted to the Hazardous Materials Suit hanging in the corner. Placing the bag on the floor, William noticed the Suit catch her attention. He heard the slightest of gasps, sensed she was holding her breath as she tried to mask her concern. He stepped up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and intimately said in her ear, "I really believe it will keep you safe Julia – We'll try it after the meeting, hmm?" He nibbled at her earlobe. She turned around and they kissed.

From inside the Inspector's office, Meyers and Clegg stood together watching the couple through the glass. Quietly, voice low enough to exclude Chief Inspector Davis who was on the phone, Clegg said to Meyers, "Sorry old chum, she looks quite enamored with her husband."

"Yes," Meyers responded with a sigh, "We must play with the cards we are dealt," deciding that hiding his feelings for Julia was fruitless, aware that Clegg already knew. He lit a cigar, turned and took a seat.

Soon after, the Inspector and William and Julia entered the room, and greeted everyone. Chief Inspector Davis took a seat across the room from the couch on which William and Julia had sat. As he sat, he said, "Yes. You two are very late. Just goes to show that there are major problems with having women in the workplace."

All eyes turned to Julia. Yes, she was fuming. She took a deep breath, preparing to counter him…

William spoke up, "Now Chief Inspector, I assure you that our being late is solely my fault. My wife played no role …"

Meyers then insisted, staring firmly at the Chief Inspector, "Further, I'll have you know that there is no coroner, man or woman, who even compares to Dr. Ogden in all of Canada. I dare say, and Mr. Clegg, you can verify this, even in all of North America."

Clegg nodded, "Never a man I've met," he agreed.

Clearly being outnumbered, Chief inspector Davis dropped his male chauvinistic rant. Julia took a deep breath and fidgeted in her seat, trying to let it go.

Inspector Brackenreid started them off, "Doctor, before we begin talking about the work you will need to do in the morgue, do you need to be caught up on the cases we think might be involved?"

She looked at the man sitting next to her and answered, "Detective Murdoch explained a little, but perhaps it would be helpful to hear a quick overview."

William explained that they had a body, that of Agdar Flate, a man working on weapons technology inventions, that they thought was connected to the dead body in the morgue at Stationhouse #5 by similar black ink stains on the bottoms of their shoes and similar cotton fibers on their clothing. They did not have an identity for the man in the morgue. They did however know that this body was rigged, likely with a poison, that they speculated was intended to kill a coroner. After checking into people with motives to kill Ben Reynolds, it was determined that the targeting of the coroner did not seem specific. As Flate was from America, Clegg was able to inform them that he had sent a spy, a woman named Jane Wolfe, to determine if Flate was selling American inventions to other nations…

Clegg leaned forward and interrupted Murdoch, "Did you have any luck at the hospitals?" he asked, his worry apparent.

Detective Murdoch responded, "Um yes," he held a finger up to Clegg asking him to wait and turned to Dr. Ogden and said, "There was evidence that, um … Jane had found a man likely dealing with Flate and making his weapons, and selling them illegally. The man's first name is Connor…"

Meyers interrupted and asked the doctor, "Would you like to see a photo of Jane?" William wiggled uncomfortably.

Julia glanced over at her husband and answered, "Why yes, I would," looking back at Meyers. Meyers gestured at Clegg, who passed the photo to Julia. William leaned forward and clasped his hands together in his lap and fidgeted with is wedding ring, his eyes down. He blew out a sigh, trying to control the racing of his heart and the buzzing of anxiousness in his head.

Julia took the photo and held it up to view it. "Oh my," she said, "She is quite attractive…" She turned the photo toward William and continued, "Wouldn't you say detective?"

Needing to clear his throat first, William said, "Yes," reaching up and rubbing his forehead, "Yes she is."

Clegg took the photo back from the doctor and continued to explain, "Detective Murdoch found blood in Jane's room and speculated that this man Connor had hurt her – That he might have taken her to the hospital to get stitches."

The detective reached into his vest pocket and took out a small package, about the size of a pen, wrapped in toilet paper. He passed it to Clegg. "I found this at the hospital where they went. According to the nurse, Connor's behavior with Jane was controlling and bordering on violent. It was hidden under the toilet lid in the ladies room. Perhaps you can help us make heads or tails of it? Maybe the typewriter key, an 'A,' signifies something specific, like Aasen Corporation perhaps?"

Clegg unrolled the paper, revealing the typewriter key and a hat pin. Unable to hide his emotions when seeing the hat pin, he paled. He returned to his seat, dropped into it, seeming to be in shock. He raised his head and looked at Murdoch. "The hat pin was a gift from me…"

Davis interrupted, "Did you have feelings for this woman?" he charged.

Clegg took a deep breath, "Yes. Jane and I were lovers. I know not to get involved. It just happened," he said, finding Meyers. "I think she left the pin to make sure I knew the message was from her… The 'A' … Well, it likely indicates that she is calling for plan A."

The Inspector asked, "And what is plan A?"

"It means, 'Agent in grave danger. Remove as soon as possible.' It means she will likely be killed if we don't find her – That her cover is probably blown," he said.

Murdoch said, "We have a few clues, not much though. Connor may have visited someone at the Don Jail – a woman…"

Julia leaned forward, excitement in her voice, "The footprints… That would link him to the other two men!"

"Yes," William answered. "And I thought…" He shrugged a little, showing he was going out on a limb, "Well, ink and cotton fibers – I thought the illegal weapons business might be operating out of a textiles factory." He sighed, "But none of them panned out." He looked at his wife and continued, "I was hoping we might get something from the autopsy on the man in the morgue."

Chief Inspector Davis said, "And that brings us to the point of this meeting, does it not gentlemen? … uh, and lady. Dr. Ogden, What do you think you need in order to deal with this whole 'poison trap' mess?"

Dr. Ogden looked to the detective and said, "Well, Detective Murdoch tells me he has made some … suits that will keep the poison out. Um …"

Murdoch took over, "I call them 'Hazardous Materials Suits' sir, though Constable Crabtree suggested something shorter, like 'Haz Mat Suits.' They are rubber deep-sea diving suits with rubber boots and regular rubber surgical gloves, and a mask, or hood to protect the head, eyes, etc. They should protect from contact with the skin. An oxygen tank is worn to protect from inhaling the poison. Probably the first thing the team should do is determine whether there is an airborne threat – If not, then the oxygen tanks can be removed and the rest of the investigation can proceed breathing the air in the morgue. Um, I made three suits, one for Dr. Ogden, one for Reynolds' assistant – Mr. Drakes, and I was thinking the third one would be for me…"

Dr. Ogden sat up rigidly, releasing an exasperated sigh. "Really William! Isn't that just typical," she steamed. "Why would you think _**you**_ should go in?" she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air in exaggerated disbelief.

William looked completely lost. He stuttered, "I, uh …"

Meyers leaned in, sitting in a nearby chair, close enough so he could touch Julia's knee, he looked at Murdoch and said, "My dear man, consider the danger. Consider the impact should both of you perish."

Before William could consider what Meyers was saying, he found himself stuck staring at the man's hand on his wife's knee. All eyes followed the aim of his sight and Meyers quickly removed his hand, looking to Murdoch and saying, "Sorry."

Redirecting his attention to figuring out the reason for Julia's anger at him, he immediately understood that his mistake was to forget about their responsibilities – HIS responsibilities, as a parent. " _If we both died, the children would be orphaned. Of course,_ " he thought. He sighed, knowing he was in trouble. The fact that it was Meyers who pointed it out only made matters worse. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and with them begged for her compassion. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I was distracted by my concern for you. I wanted to…"

She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. She interrupted him, "You wanted to be the _**big man**_ and protect your feeble little wife."

" _Uh, oh_ ," he thought. Actually, every man in the room thought the same thing. Not taking the time to consider the consequences, he jumped to defend himself, "No," he calmly said, although fear had gripped his stomach. "I thought my … Um, I thought that I might notice an important clue, something that would be useful in …" he tried to explain before she interrupted him.

"Never mind William. Let's just move on… I believe the third person should be an expert on poisons. I have a friend who specializes in toxicology. He works at the University. Of course, he would be risking his life and he may be unwilling to do so, but I thought I'd give him a call – See if he would be willing to work with us on this," the doctor suggested.

"Great idea," the Inspector rushed to say.

"I'll use the phone in Detective Murdoch's office to give him a call then?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," William said. Dr. Ogden left to make the call. The room took a sigh of relief once the door was closed. The conversation moved to whether the USA or Canada was ultimately in charge of the results from the autopsy – There was no evidence that the man in the morgue was Canadian, but Clegg fought on, claiming he was connected to Flate who was American.

Dr. Ogden returned. Her friend, Dr. Feldman, was more than happy to take part in what he saw as the 'adventure.' She mentioned to Murdoch that there might be some concern, as he was a tall, well-built man, and the suit may be too small.

" _Of course he would be tall and well-built… Of course,_ " thought William. He sighed, finding once again that he was struggling with jealousy, and smiled and nodded, "I'll work on it," he said. The group agreed that Murdoch would be in charge of the overall investigation, with Dr. Ogden in charge of anything pertaining to the morgue, the poison, and the autopsies. Meyers and Clegg were welcome to be in attendance at Stationhouse #5. Neither Inspector Brackenreid nor Chief Inspector Davis would come. Murdoch would have the rest of the day to acclimate Dr. Ogden to using the suit and then transporting the necessary equipment to, and preparing the scene at, Stationhouse #5.

Later, in her own morgue at Stationhouse #4, Julia struggled with wearing the Hazardous Materials Suit and performing essential tasks, like lifting and using tools, etc. It was a squelching hot day in August, and she was drenched in sweat inside the rubber suit. She had the nearly 50 pound oxygen tank on her back and constantly had to remind herself, " _In through the mouth, out through the nose._ " One important problem would be communication while using the oxygen – the feed-tube was in the mouth. Julia planned on devising some hand signals and using writing on a big pad to communicate with Mr. Drakes and Dr. Feldman, or David, as she more commonly referred to him. Further, the hood, mask and goggles, not only added to the excruciating heat, but also limited visibility. She was finding it more challenging than expected, but refused to show it, being determined to prove that a woman could handle it. After about 10 minutes, they decided she could manage with the weight of the oxygen tank if necessary, and William removed it. She spent another hour working in the suit. She determined that she would be able to perform the necessary tasks while wearing it. As she removed the hood, her red-hot, soaked, skin praising the waft of cooler air, she said to William, "The heat is nearly unbearable – I worried about my ability to think. I got dizzy."

He helped undo the rest of the suit while he replied optimistically, "Fortunately, the plan is to begin first thing in the morning. It shouldn't be that hot yet."

"Yes, Good," she agreed. Once she stepped out of the heavy, rubber suit, she looked down at her body. Having decided that it was impossible to wear her skirt in the suit, she now had on only her petticoat, bloomers and stockings. Of course, they were dripping with sweat. William couldn't help but laugh when she gave him an exasperated look. Julia fought back a laugh and placed her hands on her hips, stuck her derriere out and puckered her lips, friskily taking the same pose that Jane had used in her provocative photo.

His laughter escalated as William playfully said, "Definitely the fairest of them all." He opened his arms to her; joy bloomed in their hearts as they shared an embrace. They separated, finding the hug to add to the discomfort of the heat. He began collecting together the equipment to bring over to Stationhouse #5 while Julia cleaned up the morgue.

William decided to clear the air and said, "I'm sorry about assuming I would join you in the morgue tomorrow. I …"

"William, I'm sorry I didn't appreciate your effort to care for me. Really, let's forget about it, hmm?" she said.

"Good," he replied.

They planned that he would take the supplies to Stationhouse #5 while she gathered up all of her resources on poisons, and that they would meet back here to head home together. They would be home before dinner. Julia was finding it hard to wait to see the children. She asked him to hurry. Before he returned, she was able to change into the other, dirty, garments in the bag he had packed for the hotel, so at least under her dress she was dry.

As they exited the cab and walked down the front path to their house, a big banner could be seen above the porch. It read, "Welcome Home Mommy." There were some balloons bouncing in the breeze, tied to the front steps. William was impressed with the work the children, and of course Claire-Marie and Eloise, had done – The decorations looked marvelous.

"Oh William… How exciting!" Julia declared. She bolted off ahead of him, no longer able to control her desire to hug her children. William hurried along behind her, bag in tow. Julia pushed the front door open and rushed inside. "Where are my babies?" she cried out, barely noticing the bundles and bundles of flowers throughout the foyer and leading a trail into the parlor. When she followed their trail, entering into the living room, her three children threw confetti up into the air and jumped for joy, cheering the arrival of their mother. Before Julia could even utter their names they were all entwined in a hug. Tears flowed down Julia's cheeks. Squatting down in front of them, Julia asked them each how they had been. Chelsea worried that her mother was crying – Thought she was sad. Julia reassured her that they were tears of joy, and it only happens when someone is really, really happy… And right now, being with them, she was really, really happy. William leaned against the wall, watching, letting the happiness of the scene flow through him. Claire-Marie and Eloise looked on, big smiles showing their enjoyment of the reunion as well.

When Julia hugged her son, William Jr. she asked him if he could breathe better now, remembering the note he had written to her in prison. He nodded and seemed surprised, experiencing this, 'tears of joy,' thing for himself; he was crying too. Julia took him into a tight hug, while his small, 8-year old body shook from his sobbing. She whispered in his ear, "You're crying because you are so happy I'm home?" Keeping his head tucked to her shoulder, he nodded vigorously, relieved that she was helping him to put words to the feelings. His mother continued, "And you're crying because it hurt so much while I was gone?" With those words he squeezed her as hard as he could, nodding 'yes,' and seeming to crumble in her arms. Julia glanced up at William, sharing with him her sadness, maybe even guilt, in the face of their little boy's suffering. She placed her lips back next to his ear and said, "I missed you that much too." As she held her son, waiting for the wave of grief to pass over them, she found herself thinking of her husband, of William as a little boy, the same age as the boy currently in her arms, and how he had no one to comfort him, hold him, understand him, and know his pain, as her son did now. More than she thought possible when it came to empathy, she felt her heart breaking for that little boy whose mother had died so many years ago. She held her son securely, and lifted him as she stood up, then she carried him over to stand in front of William. William wrapped his arms around them both, blanketing their son with both parents. Wanting to be part of the emotional event, Katie and Chelsea joined in, wrapping themselves around their parent's legs.

Only moments later, Julia broke off the family hug. She tenderly put William Jr. down on the floor and said, "These decorations are beautiful. Thank you all so much. I love the signs and the banner and the roses… Knowing Katie had not gotten any special attention yet. She pointed at Katie's sign, then squatted down in front of her little 7-year old daughter and asked, "Did you make that spectacular pink one for me?" Katie nodded. Julia swept her up in her arms and carried her over to the sign. "Can you read it to me sweetie?" she asked.

Katie pointed at the words on the sign as she read, "Welcome home to the best Mommy! Please don't ever go away again because I miss you too much. Love Katie." Julia spun her in a circle and then said, like it was a secret, "I missed you too much too!"

Julia put Katie down and then turned to thank Claire-Marie and Eloise. She told them she was only able to survive being in the prison because she knew they would be taking such good care of her family. She told them that she had missed them too. Eloise informed her she was making her favorite dinner – French Cuisine, Beef Bourguignon.

Later that night, after the children were sleeping soundly in their beds, Julia sat in the parlor studying and taking notes on poisons. She was focused and relaxed, sipping on a glass of wine as she worked. William had headed downstairs to work-out and then up to take a shower. He stopped in to check in on her. He was wearing his pajamas and barefoot, nearly irresistible to Julia, and he knew it. His eyes sparkled. " _Oh my God, he's so gorgeous_ ," she thought. He sat down next to her on the couch. She looked back down at her notes, decided to try to ignore him, or at least not be enticed by him. She felt she was making good progress in preparing for tomorrow, and did not want to be deterred.

He took one of her curls in his fingers, twisting and playing with it. "I know it's hot, but I'm going to make myself a hot chocolate anyway. Do you want one?" he asked.

Not looking up, she replied, "No, thanks. The wine is perfect."

"Good," he responded. He put his hands on his knees, and hesitated before he stood up to go. She heard him sigh.

Still keeping her eyes away from his gaze she thought, " _Oh, believe me William, I do want to too._ " She decided to make her plans clear, "I'm probably going to be working on this for quite a while longer. Do you want me to wake you when I come to bed?" With that she risked looking at him; she wanted him to know what she meant, that she would wake him and they would make love.

He smiled, lighting her inside. "Yes," he said.

"I will," she promised.

He rose to his feet and walked towards the kitchen. He stopped before he exited the room and turned back to ask, "Julia … We have to decide what to tell the children about tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, of course …" she answered, "I think we should say that I am doing something dangerous for my job, but that we are confident I will do it well – That everything will be fine and we will both be home for dinner."

"Good…Good," he said, turning on his heel and heading for the kitchen.

She heard him in the kitchen and then noticed he went out on the porch. She finished her notes on ricin, noting that it could kill through inhalation. She decided to join William out on the porch. She stood at the screen door, before opening it, before drawing his attention to her presence, and watched him. He sat near the bottom step, hot chocolate in hand, eyes lifted to the sky. There was a lovely breeze. She felt happy. Although he did not shift his position with the sound of the door, she was certain he knew she was approaching him from behind. She pulled her skirt up and sat behind him, one step higher than he, placing him between her legs. She massaged his shoulders, leaned down and kissed his ear, reveled in the feelings inside of her as he rubbed his hand up and down along her calf muscle. He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

"No moon tonight?" she asked, barely above a whisper, her voice wrapping them in both intimacy and awe. She knew he would tell her about the science involved – how moon phases work, and where they were in the cycle right now. The sound of his voice soothed her deep inside so. As he spoke, she softly reached around and guided him to rest the back of his head in her bosom. She ran her fingers through his hair while she listened to the description of the third-quarter moon. He finished his lesson and they sat together quiet for a time.

Julia remembered the books on poisons waiting for her in the living room. She knew she needed to do more work. She wanted to be as prepared as possible; there was so much at stake. A sigh slid out of her chest and she said, "I could die tomorrow."

William sounded so calm, and so caring as he responded, "Julia, when I … died, when I was with Dr. Grace," he paused, giving her time to remember the situation – it had been years since they had discussed it. "Well, dying was beautiful Julia. There was more peace and contentment than I remember ever feeling at any time in my life. I do not worry that you will suffer, whenever the time comes. I would not feel sorry for you, knowing what I know… My sorrow, and there would be interminable sorrow, would be for myself and the children, to suffer such a loss," he explained. Having missed you, thinking it might be years and that I, we, needed to make our lives without you… It was," he sighed, "Everything reminded me of you."

"But you could think of that as me being everywhere, in everything," she offered as comfort.

He responded, with a tone of sadness that pulled at her heart strings, that felt so lonely and far away, "But it is not you, it is memories of you…"

Again, moments passed, each drifting in their own thoughts. Finding his ear, Julia whispered, "I want you to know that I believe you when you say that you will never love another, and so … when, or if, I am gone, then you will be alone." She started to cry, the thought of him suffering as a result of losing her brought such an intense burning pain to her heart. Her face wrinkled, her voice more squeaky, she sniffled and said, "That breaks my heart William... Please, if such a thing happens, please let someone else love you." Her crying escalated and she continued, "You deserve to be loved, I want you to be loved William, I really, really do." He turned around, kneeled on the step below her and wrapped his arms around her, muffling her crying in his chest. He had tears in his eyes too. She did not see. Julia turned her head sideways, allowing him to hear her message, although she was so upset she found it very hard to make the sounds she need to speak. She pushed on, comforted by his tender strokes sliding over her hair, her ear. "I'm sure there will be women who love you … and if you fell in love with one of them…" She felt him shake his head 'no,' denying the possibility, but she insisted, "But if you did, you would not be being disloyal to me – I remember how you fought against your feelings for me out of loyalty to Liza… I would be happy, if I could know you were loved, and that you loved. And maybe this woman who loves you could love our children. I know you resist it, but just in case, I wanted you to know how I felt."

He leaned down to her, took in a deep breath to take in her scent, remind himself that she was right there, with him. He decided to reassure her. He whispered, "I know." He kissed away some tears and then they stood and went back inside, her to learn more about poisons she may encounter tomorrow, him to try to fall asleep once more without her.

It was only an hour until she slid into bed with him. He was asleep. She lay with him in the dark. She battled, " _Wake him as I promised or let him sleep?"_ So many challenges were ahead, she decided to let him sleep. In the middle of the night she was awakened as he startled from a nightmare. He bolted upright in the bed, eyes darting about trying to find something solid, real to connect to – to find his place. She sat up next to him, placed a finger to his chin and brought his face to her. "I'm right here," she whispered as she pulled him down to rest his head on her chest and stroked his hair. Sleep took him again quickly. He could breathe, everything was alright, she was here.

 _ **(THUNDERSTORMS LOOMED. When it comes to protecting yourself during a thunderstorm, remember, rubber is NOT a good conductor. Place rubber between yourself and the danger).**_


	7. Chapter 7

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 7: Friday, August 8, 1913

He didn't think he could be any more excited, having this breathtaking woman sitting astride him, having seen himself go up deep inside of her, but then he noticed her breasts – those two beautiful, pendulous orbs, with those enticing, delicious pink nipples in their centers. They bounced and jiggled in tantalizing waves each time he surged up into her. He nearly came undone – a moan of severe pleasure escaped from his throat. It was the sound of it – coming from _**outside**_ of his brain, out in the real world rather than in his dream, which awoke him.

William quickly realized that he had been dreaming, and that now he found himself awake and in quite an aroused state. He turned to look, doubting his memory as he had trained himself to be accustomed to her not being there. Love, and joy, and hope and lust, predominantly lust, overtook him upon. Julia was right there in bed next to him. He didn't remember that it was Friday, that she would be facing danger and death within a few hours, at least not consciously, but something seemed to pull him to her with an even stronger force than usual. The moment felt precious, like it might be the last time. He turned onto his side and raised himself up on an elbow, resting his chin in his hand, and admired her as she slept. She lay on her back, coverless in the August heat, cloaked in her white nightgown. The golden light of dawn seemed to set her curls afire, and cast an alluring glow on her face. She was absolutely beautiful. He noticed her breathing was slow and deep, hypnotically lifting and dropping those same perfect breasts from his dream, though now they were cocooned from sight, up and down, tempting him to touch. Motion from her closed eyelids caught his attention, her breathing quickened, became more shallow. " _She's having a dream_ ," he thought.

Her hips took on motion, a subtle pumping. She moaned. Her fingers twitched. " _She's dreaming about making love_ ," William thought, feeling his groin jolt with the thought. He slid over to her, glided his hand over her stomach, then up the side of her ribcage where his grip tightened. She moaned again, louder this time. He slowly covered her with his chest while he tilted his head and found her ear. He took her earlobe in his mouth, then let it go to whisper in her ear, "Julia."

The rhythm of her hips picked up, strengthened. Her voice, dry and raspy from sleep rumbled into his ear, "William," driving him wild with need. He really didn't know if she was asleep or awake, but he no longer could control his urge to get inside of her, to thrust wildly deep inside of her. He reached down and pulled firmly on the bottom of her nightgown, riding it up over her hips. "Please William, Oh God, Please," she said as she wrapped an arm around his waist and tried to pull him down to her. He held back long enough to pull the string of his pajama bottoms and push them down low enough. Then he positioned himself between her thighs, which she opened widely for him. Their eyes met – lightning and thunder couldn't spark a more charged connection. They had to be together, close, close, close, together. He lined up with her warm, lust-lubricated opening. Simply the touch of his tip to her entrance evoked both of them to moan with voracious want. Each hearing the other only plunged them towards each other more fiercely.

William slid his hands under her back and moved them up to grip her shoulders tightly. He pulled her shoulders down while he pushed upwards into her from below, first feeling his tip parting her for an inch, before lusciously sliding back, to then push forward forcing her to yield again, this time deeper, and then sliding back, then surging into her again, deeper still, rougher. Each thrust into her was rewarded with her enticing moan followed by a gasp as she felt him withdraw, pouring her need for him into his ear, his brain, dizzying his thoughts. Soon, far enough inside of her that each of his powerful thrusts pounded his balls against her buttocks and his crotch against the knot of flesh above her opening that brought her the most pleasure, he felt her hips join his rhythm.

" _Wait for her_ ," he coached himself, keeping up the dance but saving the deepest, most potent push for the right time. Moments later, feeling her dig her fingernails into his lower back while pulling him down to her with what seemed to be all of her strength, he knew she was close and he knew she wanted it harder. Spurred on, he gave in to his own ache to reach for, to take, to finally touch, her secret, deepest spot. He felt so close. He pushed with all his might, over and over again, the effort pulling a groan from him that echoed in her brain, melting it. She felt the spin and flip begin, taking her breath. She was teetering over the edge.

" _That's it…Right there_ ," he thought, knowing he had it now. William's thrusts grew longer, stretching out, hurtling for the finish. He moaned, low and deep, the heat of his breath seeming to burn through her whole body, setting her inner core on fire. With fervor he exploded within her. "Oh, you feel so good," he said in her ear as waves of elation flooded through him. Knowing she was not yet done, he continued to pump into her. But her fall into ecstasy had already begun. She was waiting for the eruption she knew was coming. He felt it arrive as she clamped tighter around him, drawing him up farther inside of her, her rhythm taking on longer strokes.

"Mmm," she murmured, as she felt her insides swim with melted gushes of sheer pleasure. His kisses frolicked across her face, a little nip, then more soft, flighty kisses. She gripped him with her arms and legs tightly, signaling for him to roll them over, and he did, placing her on his chest. He was still tucked inside of her when they heard the footsteps in the hall followed by a knock at the door. Julia increased her hold on him, asking him to stay with her a bit longer.

William called out, "Not yet," then took her neck in his mouth, sucking on her soft, delicious skin, forcing her to stifle a moan.

"O.K. Daddy," Katie's little voice replied. There was a little chatter between the three children on the other side of the door before they heard their footsteps move back down the hall again.

Julia friskily said, her voice still hoarse and dry, "Good morning detective."

He chuckled, his mouth still busy with her neck. He released her and replied, "Good morning doctor."

She pulled back enough to allow their eyes to lock. She found the red mark she was responsible for making yesterday on his neck, traced it with her finger and coyly asked, "William Murdoch, do you realize that you have just made my dreams come true?"

Feeling quite cocky, he responded, with a slight bow, "Yes I do, milady. And you mine." They kissed. Upon breaking it off, they quickly prepared for the children's customary return. Julia went into the bathroom, bringing a warm washcloth to tenderly clean the juices of their lovemaking off of William. They returned their clothing to its proper positioning. Only moments later the second knock came.

"Come in," Julia called out. Both parents braced slightly, tradition held that there would soon be an onslaught.

Children poured into the bedroom, jumping into the bed and nearly drowning their mother in hugs and kisses. "Mommy, Mommy, You're here! ... Good morning Mommy!" they cried.

William allowed their unbalanced attention for a few moments before he started teasing them. "What … No hugs for me?" he asked. "What am I … Chopped liver?" he protested. He quickly escalated his complaints, initiating a pillow fight by throwing his pillow at the nearest child.

"Get him!" William Jr. called out. Chaos erupted. William Jr. armed himself with his mother's pillow, Katie with the one William had just thrown, and the littlest, Chelsea, jumped to the bottom of the bed and clamped onto her father's feet, helping to hold him down. Pillows flew, setting an off-beat rhythm as they made contact with William's body, giggles and shrieks sang through the air.

William held up an arm in an effort to survive the attack. His voice sounded strong and formidable as it called out from under the ambush, "I am Detective William Murdoch. You are under arrest for assault. Lay down your weapons..."

Of course, the children did no such thing. William freed himself from Chelsea's foot imprisonment and grabbed a hold of Katie as she tried to make her escape. "Your weapon please, young lady," he demanded as he lifted the squealing child into the air. He put her in "jail" in the corner of the room and pretending to lock the door with the key, which he placed in his pajama pocket. He tucked her confiscated pillow under his arm and then his eyes focused in on William Jr. on the bed holding his mother's pillow.

The boy screamed with glee, threw the pillow to his mother and bolted off the bed. William turned his attention to his wife, now in possession of the "weapon." He was frozen still, breath hurried, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Oh no… No you don't," she said, eying her husband but moving away, out of the bed, to stand clutching the pillow and holding a hand out to stop him. Her eyes glanced to her planned escape route as she firmly said, "William Murdoch, Don't you dare."

In the flash of an eye he dove across the bed. Julia dashed for the center of the room. William, dropping the pillow he held to increase his ability to hunt, bolted after her.

"Run Mom!" William Jr. screamed excitedly.

"Noooo!" Julia screamed out just before he captured her in his arms and tumbled them both to the floor, making sure he hit the ground first to keep her landing safe. She rolled up under him, protecting the pillow from his grasp. "William, no!" she breathlessly cried, while his hands dove and poked in an effort to seize the pillow. He decided to try tickling her into submission.

William Jr. bravely approached, stealing the imaginary key from his pocket. Holding it up in the air he proclaimed, "Katie! I have the key. I'm coming to set you free."

William turned Julia over, found and took her wrists, and lifted her arms up above her head, pinning them to the ground. "Do not resist," he said assertively.

Their eyes met and time seemed to stand still – him so dominant, in complete control; her so submissive, vulnerable, helpless. It happened as it sometimes did. They had stunned each other. Julia's voice softly floated through the air, slow, weak, spellbound, "Yes detective, I will not resist," she said. Their eyes dilated, growing black as they took the other in, chests heaved demanding oxygen.

Chelsea, seeing that the pillow had dropped away and was attainable, rushed in to snatch it up and darted away quickly, only to return as her father had not taken up chase as she had expected now that she had the prized "weapon." She risked being close to him and said with expectation and delight, "I have the pillow Daddy!"

William could not pull his gaze away from his love, his soul-mate. He wanted to lie down on her, kiss her, and take her. He battled against his impulses to do so. It seemed to come from left-field, taking him completely by surprise…

"Pow!" … Little Chelsea had walloped him with the pillow, landing it square in his face as he knelt over his wife, defenseless as he had been entranced by her. It knocked him a little silly.

Julia burst out into laughter, "William," she giggled. He looked her in the eye and then rolled his eyes up to the heavens before he took off after the offending child.

Soon William was "trapped" again on the bed as pillows pounded him and any free fingers tried to make him succumb with enthusiastic tickles. "I give up!" he called out. "Stop, I give up! You win!" he submitted. The family dropped into an out-of-breath ball of bodies and pillows.

Julia joined the pile. She teased, "I do hope detective, that your arrests at work are more successful." Both adults laughed. She took a deep breath, remembering what the day ahead held for her. He heard it – sparking anxiety in his gut as well.

William took the girls to start to get dressed while Julia hung back in the bed with William Jr. She asked him softly, "Was I still the first thing you thought of when you woke up?"

He answered, "Yes, but they were good thoughts, not sad ones."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, giving him a warm hug.

She walked with him to join the others. Their nanny, Claire-Marie, had just arrived from her quarters over on the other side of the house. William headed back to their bedroom to ready for work. Julia stayed to speak with the children's nanny a little while, preparing her to care for the children throughout the day. She told her they would call when the danger had been cleared and then Claire-Marie could inform the children.

When Julia returned to their room, she heard the water in the bathroom sink running and instantly remembered that it would be William shaving. He would have removed his top, his muscular chest, shoulders, arms, and back out in the open, his delicious skin kissing the air. She felt a twinge of desire as the image crossed her mind. She stood silently at the bathroom door soaking in the scene. " _Oh, I've missed this,_ " she thought. Her womb flipped over delightfully.

William had seen her out of the corner of his eye, but enjoyed being watched and not letting on. He subconsciously pulled his stomach in tight, and as he reached up to stretch the skin of his right cheek for a smoother shave, he marveled at his body's reaction to this woman – The familiar stirring in his pants seeming to lighten his soul. Only moments before, his mind had been busy working on plans for the day, and a very dangerous and important day it promised to be, but now, that anxiety, and the strategizing used to cope with it, seemed miles away. Now it was romance that took his attention. His heart beat faster, his mind yielded to the swirly flow her presence inspired. His voice scratchier than he would have liked he said, "Enjoying the view doctor?"

"I am detective," she replied, her tone dazed, seductive. Julia reached up and began to unbutton her nightgown, her eyes never dropping from the sight before her.

Before he consciously knew what it was his wife was doing, his body reacted, as his groin surged upwards his brain seemed to sink and spin, making him breathless, requiring a conscious effort to breathe. " _You are shaving … shaving_ ," he reminded himself as he forced his focus back into the mirror, onto his face. By the time William had finished shaving, rinsing the remaining shaving cream from his face, burying his face in a towel, she had her nightgown completely unbuttoned. He pulled his face out of the towel and lifted his face to the heavens ever so slightly asking for strength. He reminded himself that today, of all days, they could not be late. He told himself to remind Julia of this, but somehow the circuits needed in his brain to do so were not working, lost somewhere in the whirling mix. Julia changed her position, resting her back against the open bathroom door, providing a solid surface behind her. The torture this brought to him felt amazingly sweet. He steadied himself by planting his hands down on the kitchen sink, willing himself not to move, not to give in. Then she said it…

"Come here," her voice echoed and swam in his head, luring him like a magnet to her.

His body a mixture of virile, strong, rigid tightness, and a gooey spinning weakness – he gave in. He turned and approached her, stood close to her. Dangerously close, if they timed their breathing wrong, her breasts would have touched his chest. He cleared his throat, fought the urge to touch her, locking his arms, denying his hands. "Julia," he said, the low, dry tone of his voice catching him by surprise, "We can't be late today." The logic and reasoning of the statement, hearing it said out loud, slowed the humming in his ears, slowed the spinning. " _Get control, Stop it here_ ," he thought to himself. If she didn't touch him, he would be able to resist, but he was not strong enough to pull away. He waited.

She heard it, but it was faint, muffled and distant, somewhere in the far recesses of her mind, " _He's right._ " The first step would be taking her eyes off of him.

He heard a rush of breath from her and then she dropped her eyes, down and to the side, looking at the bathroom floor. The spell broke. He stepped back.

She looked back at him, much more in control, and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, feigning irritation and a call to herself to find needed patience and said, "Your logic is infuriating." They laughed together, separated more, and turned their attention to getting dressed. William helped her with her corset. They had planned on her wearing his pajama bottoms while in the Haz Mat Suit. She put them on over her bloomers.

Completely dressed, ready to head downstairs, William paused and stepped behind her. "Do you remember the last time you wore those?" he asked, trying to fight away re-emerging lustful urges. (Story: Power Struggles – Julia wore his pajama bottoms to go sledding. William found her irresistible in them, having his way with her). From behind her, he slid his hand around her waist.

"William," her voice warned, "We can't be late today, remember."

His sigh announced his acceptance of their fate. He stepped back and rested his buttocks on the vanity and tucked his hands in his pockets, indicating he wanted to talk. He took a deep breath and said, "Um … we are going to be at Stationhouse #5 …"

Julia figured she knew where this was going. A couple of years ago, she had been having some trouble with the detective at Stationhouse #5, Jim Dermott. (Story: Power Struggles – Dermott behaved inappropriately with her, flirting and touching her. This would have been bad enough, but Julia had wanted to make William jealous and had behaved seductively with Dermott in front of William. It had led to all kinds of problems, and although they had worked them out, it was likely to be, at best, uncomfortable working with him today).

"And … Detective Dermott will be there," he continued. "You haven't seen him since … um…"

Julia turned to look firmly into his eyes, "I know William, since I flirted with him to make you jealous." She sighed and explained, "It is truly one of the things I regret most for having done in my life. And, yes, I do think it will make today … harder." Julia stepped into her skirt and pulled it up over the pajama bottoms. "Have _**you**_ seen him since then?" she asked.

William nodded 'yes' and the added, "He has been respectable … even slightly deferential. I have some hope that everything will be fine."

Turning to the side and gliding her hand down her stomach to her thighs while assessing the image in the mirror, Julia stalled for time to think of how to say what was on her mind. "William … I don't know how to say this to make sure you know how truly important it was to me, um …" she said, followed by a sigh suggesting she was struggling to find the words. She caught his eye. Her look called to him. She continued, "Well, you, um, your ability to understand why I did that, to have compassion, even empathy, with me …" she began to choke up, swallowed it away, "Your ability to trust me, after what I had done, it was remarkable… And then, you defended my honor, while risking your job, which I know means so much to you – And I'm so sorry to have put that at risk along with everything else… I am still embarrassed about what I did, and I'm sorry."

"Julia," he said, almost in a whisper, "You repaired it. Let it go… And if you feel ashamed around Dermott, he'll take it as a sign that he had a right to do what he did… And he did not have such a right," William concluded sounding strong and firm.

Julia reached up and rubbed her forehead, she had noticed that she had picked this behavior up from him. She took a deep breath and said, "Thank you William. You're right."

"Good," he replied. And with that he headed downstairs. She would be a little longer, still needing to do her hair.

Downstairs, Eloise had come in earlier to hear the ruckus and roughhousing upstairs. She lifted her eyes up the stairwell, shaking her head in disbelief and then turned to get to work in the kitchen as her heart warmed with love for the family.

William was the first one down. He greeted Eloise and took his seat at the table. She had left the paper for him as she usually did. He was not going to be happy when he saw it and she offered him a warning, "Upsetting news today, sir," she said. He took the paper in his hands. Above the fold on the front page there was a photo of himself and Julia about to kiss outside the Don Jail. The headline read, " _Detective Denies Killing Coroner to Free Wife_." He cleared his throat and asked, "Did you get a chance to notice if the other papers reported the same story?"

Eloise flipped over the French toast in the pan and said, "Unfortunately, they did sir."

William took a deep breath, "Mm-hmm," he replied. His mind raced, " _Chief Inspector Davis is likely to react badly to this,_ " he figured. " _I will need an alibi… He was killed Monday morning and the body moved to the University on Monday night. But wasn't it me at the scene that determined that? … No, Reynolds came, said the same time of death. But was George … No it was Higgins. Was he there to hear Reynolds declare the time of death?_ " he worried, reaching up and rubbing his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest. He was pushing the thoughts away, but they were not going – thought about being arrested for this, placed in jail, even being found guilty – sentenced to hang. " _Don't panic,_ " he coached himself.

Julia and their three children joined him at the table. Julia excitedly thanked Eloise for making her favorite breakfast – French toast and bacon. William put the paper down, but Katie, sitting next to him noticed the picture.

"Look!" she declared, "Mommy and Daddy are in the newspaper!"

William quickly grabbed his wife's eyes – she saw his concern.

Katie made an effort to read the headline out loud, "Detective dennis killing carner to free wife."

William sighed and lifted the paper, passing it to Julia, "Let's let your mother see it for a second, hmm…" Eloise placed some of the plates on the table and William was relieved by the distraction.

Julia read for a few moments and then looked at William, "Do you have an alibi?" she asked.

"Mommy, can we see it – just the picture?" asked Chelsea.

Julia sighed, "Yes, I think that would be fine," she answered passing it to the child.

William took a bite of his breakfast, stalling for time. "I was starting to try to figure that out when you came in," he answered her. He rubbed his forehead again. "He was killed sometime on Monday morning, Reynolds declared that at the scene, but I'm not sure anyone but me was there to hear him. I'll have to check with Higgins," he explained.

Julia nodded. She swallowed and said, "That's good isn't it – You were at the courthouse. Hundreds of people saw you there. There were even photos of you in the paper…"

"Yes … but it could be said I killed him before I went to the courthouse… Then moved the body that night," he offered. The phone rang; Claire-Marie answered it in the foyer.

"But certainly many witnesses heard you say you were satisfied with the sentencing …" Julia started, before she realized it could be argued he committed the murder _**before**_ he learned the sentence would be so short. She sighed with the recognition of the problem and finished, "How about that evening? Do you have an alibi for when the body would have been moved?" she asked.

Claire-Marie came into the kitchen. She said, "Detective, the phone. It's Inspector Brackenreid."

William pushed away from the table, " _That's not good,_ " he thought.

Julia turned her attention to her children, making every effort to hide her concern, her fear that now it may be their father who is imprisoned, or worse. Remembering that they had planned to talk to the children about working to identify and contain the poison today, she decided to tell them now. She explained that she had a dangerous job to do today. That it is why she was released from prison early, and that she is the best qualified to do the job. She told them she was confident that she would do the job well and that she would be safe. Daddy would be there and he had invented lots of things to help. She told them not to worry, she and their Daddy would be home for dinner, and everything would be fine. William Jr. asked about the newspaper story. Julia did not deny her worry, but told them she was also sure they would be able to exonerate their father – she explained that meant proving their father didn't do it.

William returned, took a seat, had another bite of French toast and said, "Julia, we should go."

She could tell he was edgy. "Yes," she answered, taking a last sip of coffee and standing. She thanked Eloise for the wonderful breakfast, and again for last night's dinner. They each kissed each child good-bye and reassured them not to worry – everything would be fine. William put on his hat, Julia pinned on hers as well, and William took the bag they had packed with the resources on poisons and a change of clothes for Julia after finishing working in the Haz Mat suit. They hailed a cab.

In the carriage, Julia straightened her skirt, thinking she would be taking it off, exposing the fact that she was wearing a pair of William's pajama pants under it to wear when she was in the rubber suit. She was worried about it. William reached up to rub his forehead again. He took a deep breath and turned to her, "Julia," he said, "You need to focus on the task at hand. You are going into an environment that could kill you, kill others… And it is going to get … politically messy. Please try to stay focused on removing the poison safely, and then performing the autopsies." William's eyes held to hers firmly. He was imploring her to be careful, alert, to take care of herself despite whatever would be happening around her. His attitude suggested that he anticipated trouble. She did not like it.

Refusing to back off, she asked, "What did the Inspector have to say?"

" _Oh my God_ ," he thought, " _How could this get any worse?"_ Taking another deep breath, coaching himself to be calm, he answered, "Chief Inspector Davis has pulled me off the case… Put Dermott in charge…"

Julia gasped and covered her mouth in disbelief.

William exhaled sharply through his nose. It reminded her of a bull about to charge. He was still working to keep control. He continued, "Davis did not want me to be present when you … go in to work with the bodies. He said I could influence what you say to try to protect myself…The Inspector convinced him to let me stay in attendance." He sighed again and pushed on, "It seems the Chief Inspector even considered taking _**you**_ off the case, as you might try to protect me, but the Inspector convinced him no one else could do the job. He wants Kingsley to replace Mr. Drakes, so that Kingsley can make sure you perform the job legitimately."

Julia looked away. Overpowering emotions charged through her and she felt out of control. She hoped he couldn't see how unraveled and angry she felt, but she figured he probably did – he was William Murdoch after all. A sigh of impatience blew out of her. She adjusted her height in her seat, trying to regain some sense of control and said, "Perhaps Terrence can do something to get you back in charge."

Irritation registered in William's voice when he replied, "Julia, in the interest of our well-being, could you please stop calling him _**Terrence**_."

She regretted it immediately, "Sorry," she said, "Of course." " _He has always been a little quick to jealousy – it still surprises me even after all of these years,_ " she thought. Her mind drifted to Dermott, and him of all people being put in charge.

William cleared his throat and said, "It's bad enough that " _ **Terrence**_ " is going to be there, and Dermott, who, unbelievably, will be in charge, but there is even going to be this "old friend from University" with his "tall, well-built body."

Julia chuckled and shook her head showing her questioning of his worries, "William," she said through her laughter, "David? …"

" _My God, she has to use_ _ **his**_ _given name as well!"_ he thought, nearing exasperation.

"… David was much more a friend if Isaac's, if you get my meaning, than mine," she stated, with a giggle.

William's mind rushed to make sense of her meaning. " _Tash is a homosexual_ ," he remembered…

She laughed even more seeing him start to figure it out. Teasingly she added, "Now that really does make it complicated, I will have to be worried about being jealous of David and _**you**_ now!"

He wasn't sure he found it funny.

"William," she laughingly chided with a warm hug of his arm. He smiled. They both knew they would be alright, as long as they were working together.

In Dermott's office, Murdoch, Dr. Ogden, Dr. Feldman, Dermott and Mr. Drakes (Reynolds assistant who had been in the morgue with him right before he died) waited for Dr. Kingsley to arrive. William noticed that Dr. Feldman, David, was an attractive man, and he was relieved to know he did not have to worry about being jealous of him. Mr. Drakes seemed disappointed upon learning he would not be part of the team going into the morgue. He volunteered to stay and provide any help he could. He spoke with the group extensively about what he knew from having been with Reynolds when he was performing the autopsy.

Meyers arrived and met with the Inspector of Stationhouse #5, Michael Fergesson, who had replaced Davis when he became Chief Inspector. William leaned over to Julia and whispered that maybe Meyers was going to try to get him reinstated like she had suggested. After a phone call, and a few more minutes, Meyers and Inspector Fergesson emerged from his office. Inspector Fergesson called a meeting of everyone in the center of the station. Meyers stood next to Murdoch, who was next to Dr. Ogden, and said quietly, both of them leaning in to hear, "Don't worry Murdoch," and then with a nod to Julia he continued, "Dr. Ogden … I will get this whole ' _ **who's in charge'**_ thing sorted out."

Inspector Fergesson went over the plan for the day. He made it clear that Detective Dermott was in charge of the investigation. Dr. Ogden, as Toronto's Chief Coroner, would be in control of procedures that involved what was done in the morgue and with the poison. A few constables rolled their eyes, leading William and Julia to think they were uncomfortable with having a woman in charge. Fergesson explained that Detective Murdoch was permitted to be present, but by no means was to be considered an authority. He assigned three constables to help with the investigation. He then handed the floor over to Dermott.

Dermott took the floor with a few cheers from the constables. He said, "Now, as you may well know, the body on the slab in our morgue was found in Detective Murdoch here's district, and so when Dr. Reynolds was originally performing the autopsy, it was for Detective Murdoch's case. Now, as you might have seen in the morning papers, things have changed. Murdoch has been removed from the case. It seems his objectivity in the case has been put into question, further, there is some reason to believe he may even be involved in the crime…" The stationhouse fell into a murmur.

Julia gave William an annoyed glance. William reached over and briefly touched her hand, calling her to remember to keep calm. He whispered, "Stay focused on the task at hand Julia."

Dermott continued, "Now, we are still waiting for the third member of the team who will go into the morgue to arrive. It seems that our man, Mr. Drakes has also been replaced, in this case by Stationhouse #3's coroner, Dr. Kingsley, but because Chief Inspector Davis wants another coroner on the team, as it seems there may be some problems with having Murdoch's _**wife**_ in charge of the autopsies…" Again, the stationhouse grew loud as constables and others reacted to Dermott's charges. Dermott threw up a hand to regain their attention and said, "Now, now lads, we have been told she is in charge, and we will behave professionally…"

A constable that had been assigned to the investigation by Fergesson interrupted, "Jim, you mean to tell me that I need to take orders from … a woman?!"

"Yes I do," Dermott hollered back, "She is the Chief Coroner. She would not have risen to that position if she were not highly capable in such investigations. You think you would know how to go in there and safely remove that poison!?" The constable backed off, mumbling something, but accepting his role. Dermott took a deep breath and continued with the plan, "So, it seems there are some special suits the participants will be wearing. Our men will help bring those suits over to the morgue where the team can change. I guess Dr. Ogden may need to use the morgue bathroom?" he looked to Dr. Ogden.

Julia walked over to stand next to Detective Dermott and address the group. She bowed slightly to Detective Dermott and said, "First off, I would like to thank you all for helping with this dangerous and important investigation; I'm particularly grateful for Detective Dermott's support. This is a very complicated investigation, and our plans for how to proceed here today have undergone a great deal of preparation, organization, and strategizing. I dare say it will be important to understand that, until we have identified the type and extent of the poison present, our biggest concern must be containing it. Towards that end, I respectfully must insist, that we do not proceed as just suggested…" Once again the room fell into a buzz; Julia had just opposed their man, Dermott. She waited, trying not to show how her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked over at William. He nodded his head, encouraged her to go on. "Gentlemen," she declared loudly, "If we changed into the Haz Mat Suits _**INSIDE**_ the morgue, then our clothing would become exposed to the poison, particularly if it is airborne. Therefore …" her volume lowered, "Therefore, Detective Murdoch and I had designed the protocol to include changing into the suits here and then walking over to the morgue while wearing the suits. They go on over one's clothing, so when we leave the morgue, we will follow a protocol for leaving the suits at the site." She took a deep breath and said, "I think we should wait to go over the plan once all of the team members are here. Most of the details are not necessary for all of you to know…" She looked at Dermott and stated, "Perhaps the three constables assigned to us could wait with us until Dr. Kingsley arrives and then we can go over the rest." He agreed and the group dispersed.

After turning to Detective Dermott and thanking him personally for allowing her to address the group, Julia walked over to William and Meyers. She exhaled strongly, causing one of her wayward curls to bounce in the wind she had created. Both men chuckled. Her eyes fixed on William.

He bowed to her and said, "Well done doctor." Then he smiled. He was very proud of her, though he knew not to say so as it might imply that he was surprised she conducted herself so well, which he was not.

His smile reassured her. She would not admit it, to him, or even to herself, but it was helpful to see he was pleased with how she had handled things.

Once Dr. Kingsley arrived with Chief Inspector Davis, they joined them. Detective Dermott had yielded the floor to Dr. Ogden who went over the plans as she and Detective Murdoch had devised them so far. First, they would go in with oxygen tanks and get a sample of the poison for Dr. Feldman to take to test and identify at the University. Dr. Ogden shared some of the signals they could use to communicate and held up a large pad and marker they would use to write messages if needed. There were many complicated procedures to use to remove the suits and the collected samples from the morgue while minimizing the potential for carrying the poison out of the morgue on the suits etc. She explained the procedures, such as placing items in canvas bags and flipping gloves over to turn them inside out, trapping any poison inside the inverted glove.

Next, they would go back in (with or without oxygen, depending on the type of poison) to contain the poison. She instructed that it would likely mean bagging Reynolds' hands if the poison spread through contact with the skin, collecting any poison powder (powder is the most likely form the poison will be in – Dr. Feldman concurred) from surfaces, cutting out any areas of the body that have likely been contaminated with the poison, discarding all of the poisonous objects in canvas bags with wax liners to be disposed of or incinerated, depending on the type of poison involved. If there are any items of evidence, such as a watch, etc. that have likely been contaminated, then we will try to ascertain as much information as possible (take photographs, measurements, and fingermarks, etc.) before the item is disposed of similarly.

Dr. Ogden continued on to the last step with a nod from her husband. Finally, the autopsies are performed on the gunshot victim first and then Reynolds. It is possible these autopsies may be performed wearing the Haz Mat Suits and, possibly still using the oxygen tanks, and possibly, the Haz Mat Suits will be decided to be unnecessary. It all depends on which type of poison has been identified. Similarly, the bodies may be deemed safe for normal burial, or they may also require incineration. Either way, they will be sealed inside canvas bags lined with wax as well.

The three participants changed into the Haz Mat Suits, Dr. Ogden requiring privacy as she needed to remove much of her attire. William accompanied her. He helped her remove her corset and she removed her skirt. She replaced her blouse, now without the corset under it, and tried to feel as comfortable as possible wearing his pajama bottoms. William helped her get into the rubber suit and helped put on the rubber booties and the thin surgical gloves. She added the head covering after they re-joined the others. He asked her if she could get Reynolds' camera to see if he had taken photos of the dead man that could be given to Stationhouse #4 constables to use to try to identify him. She agreed that she would if it were possible to do so.

They headed from the stationhouse to the morgue, three people in the Haz Mat suits and all the others dressed normally. Constables carried the heavy oxygen tanks until the last possible moment, helping the participants put them on right before they went in. Before they put on her oxygen, William asked Julia about the temperature. She responded that it was much better than when she had practiced yesterday. William was relieved to hear it, but he was still concerned that the delay waiting for Kingsley would end up leaving them working in the suits at the hottest point of the day. He reminded her to focus and they separated. Dr. Ogden broke the protective seal on the door, opened it, and they went in, the sounds of the oxygen tanks hissing as they breathed in. She reminded herself, " _In through the mouth; Out through the nose._ "

There was a large window in the morgue that would allow the others to watch on. Murdoch, Dermott, Meyers, Davis, Mr. Drakes, and the three constables peered through the window. Murdoch also had a pad and marker to use to write messages to those inside if necessary.

The three participants stood over Dr. Reynolds' body on the floor. Dr. Ogden knelt down. She inspected the hands, quickly giving a signal – rubbing her gloved fingers together. Murdoch knew the signals his wife devised for the task. He announced, "The poison can act through contact with the skin." She then turned her attention to Reynolds' nostrils and throat. No signal. Murdoch said, "No evidence yet that it can be effective when inhaled or swallowed." Murdoch didn't notice, but Meyers pulled the Chief Inspector back to the stationhouse.

Dr. Feldman pointed at the midsection of the body of the man on the slab. Dr. Ogden signaled, raising an upside down fist in the air and shaking it up and down. Murdoch interpreted, "They found a powder." He was sounding excited. Things seemed to be going well. From a pouch she had around her waist, Dr. Ogden produced a rubber bag-like container and a metal tool to use to collect a sample. She handed the tool to Dr. Feldman and held the container out for him to carefully put the sample and the tool into. She sealed the container. Dr. Feldman and Dr. Kingsley turned to leave but Julia raised a hand to stop them. She pointed at the camera. They approached it. She signaled to Kingsley, who had at this point not touched anything, to take a large rubber bag out from her pouch. She signaled for him to bag the camera. He covered the camera with the bag and then pressed in against the camera from outside of the bag, to lift it, turn it over and seal the bag with a rubber band which he also removed from Dr. Ogden's pouch. She gave him a thumb's up. He had collected the camera and had never touched anything that was in the morgue directly with his gloved fingers. They headed for the exit, Kingsley carting the bagged camera and Dr. Ogden carrying the container with the poison sample and the collecting tool. Once outside, they placed the two collected items in separate canvas bags. They removed the oxygen tanks and followed the other procedures to remove the suits. They stored the suits in canvas bags to reuse later and the discarded the used gloves in a canvas bag and sealed it closed.

The crew then walked around to the side of the building to join the others. All eyes dropped to Julia's "pants."

"Well I couldn't very well wear a skirt inside the suit, could I?" she asked, wishing they wouldn't make a big deal out of it. She held up the collected and bagged sample proudly.

The group shared a small cheer. Murdoch noticed that Meyers and Chief Inspector Davis had left.

Once they were back in the stationhouse, she covered the "pants" with her skirt. Dr. Feldman hurried with the sample to his lab at the University. Murdoch asked for the camera from Kingsley. He sent the camera to George at Stationhouse #4, reminding him to wear protective gloves, and to develop the film and, if it had a photo of the victim, to make copies and have constables travel to the docks and any textile factories to try to identify the man. Julia called home and talked to the children, telling them that she was safe and she had done her job well so far. They were through the hardest part.

Dr. Ogden and Dr. Kingsley had noticed many things pertinent to the case. For instance, the poison powder appeared to have been on a knife-blade that had been inside a sheath or pouch and stuck into the body. When Reynolds likely discovered it, he would have pulled the blade and pouch out, and then possibly removing his gloves to measure the blade for his notes, he would have left his hands as they found them, bare, and the poison would have caused his hands to become burned and swollen on the fingertips.

Murdoch speculated, "It seems then, that what we suspected is correct. It was sabotage intended to kill the coroner." Detective Dermott nodded in agreement.

Julia took a moment to notice that Dermott seemed to be on his best behavior. She found herself once again feeling grateful for her husband. She added, "Yes, whoever they thought that coroner would be." She pulled out her notes from last night and looked them over. The fact that it was a powder, the color and texture of the powder, and the fact that seemed to work through contact with the skin narrowed down the likely poisons it could be. She informed them she was very relieved it wasn't ricin. That would have been particularly nasty to deal with. "Perhaps aconite," she shared, "From a plant called Monkshood, or _Aconitum napellus_. It kills by touch to the skin and the symptoms are asphyxia and paralysis of heart. Reynolds showed signs of asphyxia – broken blood vessels in his sclera of the eyes, which worried me at first, suggested the poison was airborne, but he had no burns or swelling around his nostrils or throat."

William leaned in and added, "Reynolds had a heart condition … Perhaps…"

Julia finished her husband's thought, "Perhaps causing him to have succumbed particularly quickly to the poison... I'll call over to the University and fill Dav … Dr. Feldman in on these thoughts about aconite. "

Within the hour they had the results from Dr. Feldman. It was aconite. They would be able to continue without the oxygen tanks, and if they could be sure to collect all of the powder, they might even be able to perform the autopsies without the suits at all. Although both William and Julia thought they should wear them to be on the safe side.

All three participants went back in right before noon. It was getting pretty hot. They agreed that Dr. Feldman should still be included as they needed his expertise in working with poisons to ensure the poison collection and removal was effective and safe.

By 3:00, Julia informed William, and Dermott, of a few major findings from the autopsy on the gunshot victim. The murderer had removed the bullet, but it was small. And, interestingly, the man had suffered serious injury to his right Tibialis anterior muscle on the front of his calf about two months ago. He wwould have had to go to the hospital for treatment, likely deep stitches. He would have walked with a limp. She stayed and continued working on the autopsies.

William wanted to chase down this new lead. He called Inspector Brackenreid.

The Inspector said, "Meyers stopped by to tell me to tell you to keep working on the case me old mucker. He was working on going over the Chief Inspector's head to get you reinstated as being in charge."

" _Julia was right about Meyers helping again,_ " he thought, " _I just wonder if it's because he wants me on the case or if he is trying to help her?_ Murdoch asked, "Who do you think he's approaching about it?"

The Inspector replied, "Well whenever he has tried to force our hands in the past, he's gone all the way to the Prime Minister…"

"Well, that would probably work," Murdoch responded happily.

"Yes, it would certainly make Davis sit up and take notice, wouldn't it?" the Inspector added gleefully.

Murdoch asked the Inspector if he knew whether or not Crabtree had gotten any photos of the dead man. He was pleased to learn that he had and that two constables were out right now canvassing the docks and textile factories to try to identify him.

Murdoch headed over to stationhouse #4 to collect photos of the man and enlist some other constables to go to the hospitals with the new information about his right calf injury. The constables set out around 4:00 PM. The detective was readying to head back over to Stationhouse #5 when the Inspector called him in. Chief Inspector Davis had called and Murdoch was back in charge of the case. Even better, Murdoch was _**NOT**_ considered a person of interest in the death of the man in the morgue at Stationhouse #5. Murdoch could not hide his relief.

"Murdoch, you were really worried about being accused?" the Inspector asked.

Now feeling slightly silly for doubting that his reputation would be sufficient to keep him safe from such accusations, even when he would not have been able to provide an alibi, he shrugged and said, "Well sir, remember, I have nearly gotten the noose, and Julia as well, in the past…" he thought for a moment. "You know sir, it is so much worse now, with the children. Um, we worry a lot."

The Inspector put his hand to Murdoch's back and said, "Yes, yes. Having a family that depends on you, needs you…It makes you see life differently." He patted his back roughly and said, "Now, head over there and collect that lovely wife of yours. She should be finishing up by now. Maybe you two will have some time to have another … lunch, hey?" he teased with an even bigger slap. Murdoch blushed, bringing a smile of success to the Inspector's face.

Being guided to the door by the older man, Murdoch said, "I don't really think so sir. It is way past lunchtime," earning himself another slap and a chuckle from the man.

"True Murdoch, True," he said, grin bursting across his face.

William stopped and bought Julia flowers – yellow roses, like they had at their wedding. Back at Stationhouse #5, he watched through the big morgue window with Detective Dermott for the team to finish up. " _She really is a remarkable woman,_ " he thought. " _Of course in that Haz Mat Suit you can hardly tell that she is a woman at all,"_ his internal thoughts continued. Then his mind considered what he knew she was wearing under the hot, rubber suit – His pajama bottoms! Instantly the thought was followed by the memory of finding her in them, and only them, and then standing behind her and sliding his fingers into the 'hole' in the front, and then bringing her down to kneel over the vanity chair in front of him, and then loosening the string and sliding them down off of her, and then … His mind almost went to that last step when Detective Dermott said something, dragging him back to the here and now.

"So Murdoch, I wanted you to know that even though I was taken off of the case and you were put back in charge, there are no hard feelings, eh?" William just listened. He had felt that Dermott celebrated his demise in the press, as well as possibly in the Constabulary, a little too heartily for his tastes. "And your wife, Dr. Ogden, she really proved herself today," Dermott added.

Now _**that**_ William could agree with. "Yes, she is a very strong and capable woman," he said, looking Dermott in the eye and giving a slight nod.

The team emerged, poison successfully removed and autopsies complete, at 5:30. Detective Murdoch congratulated the whole team, but handed the Chief Coroner the flowers and gave her a kiss. He told his wife that she no longer had to worry about her husband facing murder charges, and he informed the coroner on the case that he was, once again, the detective in charge. The news earned him a congratulations and a kiss.

They packed up all the gear, including the Haz Mat Suits. William made plans for having some constables from Stationhouse #4 pick up the suits and other gear tomorrow. Kingsley agreed to take responsibility for finishing up the final details, like contacting Reynolds' wife. As for the other man, they still did not have an identity. They would keep his body in its canvas bag, on ice for a while longer. There was still even debate as to which country had rights to the body, or even access to the autopsy results for that matter. Gratitude was expressed to all of those who helped.

Julia made plans to have David over to their house for dinner. She told him she would also invite Isaac. She also called home to share the good news with the children. She could tell they were relieved, but they were also proud, which made her feel great.

William and Julia took a carriage to Stationhouse #4. Julia was no longer drenched with sweat, having finally cooled off sufficiently that even her hair was dry. William told her that she had done a wonderful job, but that he expected no less from Toronto's Chief Coroner and from such a magnificent woman as her. She reminded herself that even though tomorrow was Saturday, she needed to start working on finding a replacement for Reynolds.

Back at Stationhouse #4 they both missed celebrating their success with the Inspector. George said he had rushed out, late for making some special surprise he had planned for Margaret because it was their anniversary tomorrow. Julia gave William a 'raise both eyebrows, ooh-la-la' look, prompting them both to chuckle. The three of them walked to William's office. George grabbed a report out of his typewriter as they went by and said, "I had just finished typing this up for you sir. I'm sorry for the smudges, it seems that I had quite a fight with the unruly machine and it left some battle scars if you will." He handed the detective a report. Typical of their communication, William seemed to know that the constable would tell him everything in the report before he would have a chance to read it, so William just put it down on his desk and looked at George. "Well sir, the constables were able to find the identity of the dead man over at Stationhouse #5 – His name was John Lynch. He worked at Howardson's Crating & Shipping over on the docks," George reported. He looked at Julia and added, "It seems that is where he sustained the injury you found, Dr. Ogden, when a ramp used to load up crates collapsed on his leg. They fired him after the injury." George broke off from his report to shake his head and say, "It seems so cruel and unfair to do that to an employee. I hope to see the day when such awful practices are illegal." He received nods of agreement. William dropped his eyes to the report on his desk, spurring George to get back to the point. George stammered, "Oh yes, sir…um, well the address he listed on the hospital form led to a flat rented by a man named Carl Tandy, but he claimed that Lynch moved out after the accident. He thought Lynch got another job down on the docks, as a night-watchman, but he wasn't sure. Oh, and also, he had a girlfriend who worked as a waitress over by Victoria Square… The men didn't have time to try to find her today."

William smiled and said, "Quite good George, well done."

George said, "Thank you sir," and headed for the door but paused to say, "Um, I'm going to head home now sir...doctor… Congratulations again on successfully protecting out city from the threats of a deadly poison."

Julia smiled and thanked him for the recognition, but acknowledged that it was a team effort.

George thought of more to say, adding, "Oh, and you too sir, for averting charges of murder and being put back on the case."

William dropped his eyes, it didn't feel like an accomplishment of his, but nonetheless he thanked George. He thought to himself that he wanted to thank Meyers, and find out his motivations for going so high up to keep him on the case.

George finally finished talking and left. William lifted his hat and offered Julia his arm, "Home then?" he asked Julia.

She smiled and wrapped her arm in his. "Perhaps we'll make it in time for dinner?" William pulled out his watch and then said, "Let's call and tell Eloise to wait till we get home." Julia called while William wrote himself a few notes on the case. George reappeared at the door. William asked, "What is it George?"

"Two things sir… Do you still want Jackson and me to go to the masses at the Catholic Church, you know, looking for the man with the scar and the Irish accent?"

William responded, "No, I think I can go," knowing it would relieve both men not to have to try to cross themselves and fit in again. "And what else George?" he asked just as Julia hung up the phone.

George took a deep breath and said, "And the Inspector wanted me to remind you that the new detective, the man you are to mentor sir…" William nodded with a sigh, knowing this was a soft spot for the constable who really should be a detective by now. George frowned and continued, "A Detective Gulliver, he will be here on Monday, fresh in from the States."

Julia said, "Hmm, I wonder if Clegg knows him?"

"The USA is a very big place Julia, I doubt it," William answered.

All three headed out together.

They opened the door to the overpowering smell of fish, reminding both of them that they practiced the Catholic tradition of not eating meat on Fridays. Over dinner they made plans for the weekend. They considered going to the lake-house, but William said he needed to be here on Sunday to go to a different Catholic church to work on the case. He told Julia that it was really their first lead in finding what little they knew about Connor. Connor was who he would be looking for. They decided to go to the Club tomorrow for some swimming and some riding and then they would eat lunch there. Everybody hurrahed when William offered to cook his chili and cornbread for dinner. Eloise made their day when she said she had bought all of the ingredients, suspecting that they would make these very same plans for Saturday night. On Sunday, after William returned from church, they planned on going to the beach for a few hours, but everybody agreed they might change their minds and stay home to just laze around together.

The family told stories and talked together for a while, before reading the last chapter of " _Treasure Island_ " and then heading off for bed. William roughhoused with the children for what Julia argued was too long. Finally the children were asleep.

Julia and William took a shower … together, where they made love. Unlike in the Windsor House Hotel, where the shower wall was too far away from the tub to use the wall as support behind Julia, William had intentionally designed the shower in their bedroom to accommodate their lovemaking needs, ensuring that the wall was tight up to an unusually squared-off tub. Although he would never say it, he did greatly enjoy the solution they had come up with to the problem while in the shower at the hotel. She had turned around and bent forward to reach her chest to the wall. He found making love from behind her dizzyingly stimulating. He wondered if she actually already knew this. They never talked about such things in such detail, but she was observant and smart, and likely noticed that this was the position he chose whenever he most lost his self-control.

Dressed in their pajamas, they sat together on the bench on the porch enjoying the cool breeze. They were quiet, content. William had an arm around Julia. She had one leg draped over his lap, an arm wrapped around his waist, and rested her head on his chest.

Julia asked if he remembered the nightmare he had had last night. He didn't in detail, but with a sigh and an enveloping sadness, he had figured that it was probably about her dying. Such a theme seemed to be common in his dreams as of late. He knew, and she agreed, that it was probably because their son was the same age now that he was when his mother died. Julia remembered how her heart seemed to break while she was holding their son William Jr. as he sobbed with the pain of missing her, with the struggle of trying to cope with the fear of being without her presence for 1-2 years … And how her mind connected to imagining the pain William must have felt as an 8-year old little boy suffering the total loss of his mother. She had lost her mother too, but she was older, and she thought that made a difference. And her father stayed with them. They remained a family. William didn't have this.

She breeched the subject, "William, after your mother died, what happened?"

Slow to answer, he finally said, "My father sent us to my mother's sister and she sent us to a Catholic home. I ended up with the Jesuit priests, Susana with the nuns."

"So you lost more than your mother then… More like Katie and Chelsea, you lost both parents, your home, in some ways even losing Susana, like you lost your whole family," Julia asked.

"Well, I would come home to my aunt's house sometimes, and Susana would usually be there then too. But she joined the order of cloistered nuns when I was 17, she was 14… Then, well, then I had lost everyone, everything. That's why I set out on my own. I was already on my own. I had nothing to lose," he explained.

She stroked his chest, traced the line of his pajama top collar. She said, "It sounds hard William … lonely."

She felt his fingers stroke her hair, take a curl and twist and play with it. "It was sometimes…But there were good things too. The Jesuit priests inspired me… I consider myself lucky to have been raised by them. I made strong ties, as you know, like with Father Keegan. And I had adventures," he added. He leaned down and kissed her head. She heard him take a deep breath, savoring the cooler air, the peace they had together at this moment. Following his contented sigh he said, "There is always a silver lining, Julia. In my case I always knew I'd find you."

 _ **Thunderstorms can sometimes be seen off in the distance, with a corona of light from the hidden sun igniting their edges. Every daytime thunderstorm has a silver lining as seen from somewhere. It helps to remember that when skies are the darkest.**_


	8. Chapter 8

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 8: Saturday, August 9, 1913

Saturdays were special in the Murdoch home. Eloise and Claire-Marie were off, and the family spent the whole day together. Of course, the parents wanted to indulge in a little extra sleep, rising an hour or so later than on the week days when they had to go to work, or if it weren't summertime, get the children off to school. The children, being excited about a fun day ahead, found it hard to wait an extra hour to start the day. The family had reached a compromise; while their parents stayed ' _ **asleep**_ ' behind their closed bedroom door, the children were free to head downstairs and go into the basement playroom, unaccompanied by an adult. So it happened on this _first_ Saturday back for their mother. William and Julia heard their children, quietly, so as to not 'wake' their parents, pass by the closed bedroom door and head down the stairs. The couple paused in their lovemaking to listen together, choosing stealth so as to seem to be asleep.

Julia whispered in William's ear, just after she heard the last set of footsteps start down the stairs, "They really are such lovely children... respectful, polite, and considerate. They try so very hard not to 'wake' us, don't you think?"

William rolled them both over, placing his wife on her back underneath him, causing her to release her hold on him and whispered back in her ear, "Yes." He nestled his nose into her hair and took in the scent of her, then nibbled on her ear.

She continued, "I do have to say, they have turned out to be really good people, with kind hearts…" she gasped a little as her husband had taken quite a strong hold of her neck, "Oh, William…" her body arched upwards uncontrollably, reacting to his teasing. Julia's hand found the hair on the back of his head, raked through it with her fingers. She went on, "They also seem to have a confidence, a sense of feeling valuable and capa…" she stopped suddenly, distracted by his hand softly squeezing her breast and then rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger, inducing her to let out a moan. William's breathing in her ear grew hotter, stronger, and louder, with a sense of demanding. Her hand explored his muscular back, sliding along the smooth skin. He released his hold on her neck only to seize the skin lower, just above her breast. Now her nostrils began to flare with desire as well. Her mind was foggy, she tried to find the string to the thought she just had as it nearly swirled out of reach, grabbing it just before her brain would have given way and fallen into the abyss. " _Oh, yes,_ …" she thought. She swallowed and said, "Somehow, we managed to raise them with self-assurance but without being arrogant or assuming, wouldn't you agree, William?

"Mm," he answered, unable to be more explicit as his mouth was full and his brain had already been inundated with the dizziness of lust. His hand glided down her ribcage, dipped in along her waist, rode up the curve of her hip. He let go of her skin, kissed up her neck, nipped her jaw.

" _And they are so smart_ ," she thought, struggling for words, for a coherent speech, against the gravitational spin her want for him stirred inside of her, only able to blurt out the next thought, "Smart as whips," her breathy, strained voice said. She gasped and twitched as the knots wrenched tighter in her womb. He had grabbed the inside of her thigh, hard and insistent, pushed it outward… Fingers slipped up to the boundary of her folds. Her world flipped over. She couldn't tell if she was floating or sinking, but the motion was fast, breathtaking. She would try again…she needed to breathe. She would try again to finish what she had wanted to say, "Our children, our amazing chil…"

Simultaneously, he took her mouth in a deep kiss, his velvety, hot tongue plunging in rhythmically to play with hers, and at the same time he slid into her wet, glossy entrance, opening her with two fingers, pressing firmly upwards. The warm sound of her moan mixed in the air with the more urgent sound of his, driving them with increased force towards each other.

He broke off the kiss, and with his voice low and raspy, intoxicating to her soul, he said, "No more talking." She was more than willing to oblige. She was gone. Her head had been taken in the wave. Words no longer existed. He slid his fingers out of her, grasped her hip firmly, and shifted to lie between her thighs. Briefly he used his other hand to bring his tip to touch the luscious succulence between her folds. Then slowly he moved forward, boring deep inside of her while his hands each traveled up the sides of her ribcage to roughly commandeer her shoulders. His weight pinned her down, and he squeezed her, seemingly from all sides while he drove deeper into her, honing all forces on her center.

" _Oh my god_ ," surged through her mind, " _What is he doing to me?"_ Then the rhythm started, hypnotic, enticing. She wondered if she would survive the agony of its torture. "William … Please," she begged. The beat only grew stronger. Repeated moans escaped from her, matching the rhythm.

Her exquisite sounds undid him. Unable to hold back, he surged into her with every ounce of strength he had.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, her face wrinkled in blissful strain. She too was using every muscle to pump, to suck him in closer to her center. Her nails ground into his buttocks, her biceps bulging with effort as she pulled him down with all her might. "William, my God…William, harder," she demanded. Her body writhed under his, surging upward in an arch. Her breath caught … she was about to fall. The flame at the end of the fuse was lit.

Her sudden pause, the stillness, the waiting, allowed him to puncture through, bursting open his essence, melding it with hers. He ignited torrents inside of her. "Mmm," he moaned with pleasure as elation spread through him, his body heaving forward again and again in long, deep strokes, expending every drop. His motion deep inside of her cascaded warm ripples outwards to every cell in her body, flooding her from the soles of her feet to the cheeks on her face in a deluge of euphoria. Her voice rattled in his ear, husky, slow, and contentedly, "Oh yes," she declared.

Finished, having given his all, he laid on top of her, heavy, heart pounding, steamy breath barreling over her ear and across her sweat-laden neck. "Oh my God," William said, out of breath, "That was …" he needed to swallow. He dropped completely.

Julia tasted her own tears as she turned her head to kiss his ear. She expended the last bit of energy she had to lift her arm and slide a few strands of hair out of her face. A few moments later, believing she had the power to speak again, she said, "Let's stay like this a while, hmm?"

He took a big breath, the closest thing to an answer she would get. She gave him an affectionate squeeze, dropping her arms limply to the mattress afterwards in exhaustion. Sleep came.

To her surprise, when she awoke Julia found William still on top of her. " _He really was tired_ ," she thought. She could feel that he was even still inside of her. She sighed; it was very unlikely she would be able to move without waking him. She reached up to tenderly caress his upper arm, shoulder, and slide her fingers through his hair. "William," she said softly. He took a deep breath. He was waking up. He rolled on his side, sliding out of her in the process. She sensed his absence immediately, lighter and colder. She whispered to him, "You sleep a little longer. I'll take care of the children."

He had not opened his eyes. "Thank you," his sleepy voice said. She hesitated a moment before getting up. Once in a while her heart seemed to radiate an immense, warming, glowing love. It was doing it now. She basked in her love for him, and then she continued on.

She brought the children upstairs, quietly so as not to wake their father, to brush their teeth. She agreed to let them stay in their pajamas until after breakfast. They headed down together to cook it. "Bacon and eggs?" she asked, as she reached up to twist and temporarily tie back her hair.

"Yes Mommy," they agreed. They helped bring supplies, rinse off dishes, set the table, and load the dishwashing cupboard as dirty dishes were created.

"Who wants the job of waking Daddy? I think he would like to eat it while it's hot," she asked, already knowing the answer. All three children jumped at the chance. She sent them upstairs to do so, but warned, "Don't roughhouse too long or it will get cold!" An unavoidable smile covered her face as she listened to the sounds they made while they played. " _William really is such a great father,_ " she thought, " _Husband too_." She felt lucky, grateful, happy.

When the family did finally rambunctiously pour down the stairs, Julia had nearly completed the meal. She had saved the 'over-easy' eggs for last, knowing both William and William Jr. would prefer them to the scrambled eggs she had already prepared. She stood at the stove, finishing the second pan-full of bacon. The children streamed in and took their seats, still chattering about the boisterous game they had just finished and how funny it was when …

William stepped behind Julia, sliding one hand around to her stomach, letting his thumb reach up and slip back and forth across the bottom of her breast, and pressing the other hand over her womb, intentionally placing the tips of his fingers tantalizingly close to her hairline. He tilted his head and inhaled her scent before he kissed and nibbled her earlobe and her neck.

" _Oh my, I get aroused so quickly_ ," she thought, feeling the tension in her womb tighten and her head take on the slightest spin. She could hear the children happily talking, but her attention was so pulled to him, to the feel of him so strong and warm behind her, to what he was doing to her body with his hands, his mouth, and what she anticipated he would do next.

Chelsea's voice broke across the room, "Mommy, I smell the toast!"

Instantly they all smelled the toast – it was starting to burn. William released her and quickly used a towel to grip the long handle of the metal toast basket that was over the flame, pulling it away from the heat and flipping it over to let the slightly charred pieces of toast fall onto a plate Julia had left waiting.

William Jr. declared, "Not again Mom!"

Julia quickly passed the blame, "Your father distracted me," she defended herself.

William just chuckled and said, "Don't worry, your mother and I will eat these. We'll make new ones for you."

As they ate, magnanimous conversation filled the air. The dressed and headed to the Club. William would take the girls to the riding stable and Julia would take William Jr. to swim. They would meet up for lunch.

William and both girls rode together out on the Club's bridle-paths. Chelsea rode a pony; both Katie and William rode horses. The staff at the stables knew that the Murdoch's insisted that all members of the family, male or female, ride in regular saddles – no sidesaddles. Their father had helped the girls twist their skirts around each leg and hold them in place with horse leg-wraps. William was quite good at riding, although he was not as familiar with this English style as with the Western style he had used when he worked on the ranch.

They had more of an adventure than they had wanted to when two boys on bicycles buzzed by, spooking their horses. Chelsea fell off, her pony running way, and both horses bolted towards the stable. The two boys had stopped and William called out for them to help the already crying little girl on the ground. He knew he needed to catch up to Katie, who was screaming and being run-away with.

He was quickly next to her. She was making a good effort to fix the situation (for a 7-year old girl) and was no longer screaming and was now pulling back on the reins, but to no avail. William encouraged, "Don't give up. No horse can run faster than you can ride." He reached over with one hand and grabbed the reins directly behind the horse's mouth, gradually pulling both horses to a slower speed until they finally stopped. "Wow, you handled that so well Katie," he declared. The girl looked exhausted and a little shaken, but his words stirred pride in her. She even asked him to let go of her horse and let her control him as they rode back to Chelsea.

Arriving, they could see that Chelsea was standing and watching them come towards her. She was crying but did not seem seriously hurt. William felt great relief. One of the boys had caught, and was holding, Chelsea's pony. William dismounted and squatted down in front of Chelsea.

One of the boys said, "We're so sorry sir. We know we're not supposed be on horse trails with the bikes, please don't tell."

Chelsea had quickly taken her father in a hug. William looked up at the boys and told them not to worry, while he rubbed Chelsea's back reassuringly, but he made them promise they wouldn't ride bikes on these paths again. Turning his attention to his youngest daughter, he said, "Oh, I think you are alright sweetie, hmm?" The little one nodded, keeping her head in his shoulder. She had banged her elbow, which was already swollen and was covered with a bloody scrape. William looked the injury over calmly and then comfortingly said he was sure her Mommy would be able to fix it up.

They headed back to the stables, Chelsea sitting in front of her father on his horse while he led her pony, Katie riding on her own. Katie asked, "Daddy, do you think they let girls ride bicycles here?"

William chuckled to himself; he had sensed that Katie liked one of the boys. He would have to ask Julia if it was possible for a little 7-year old girl to like a boy in this way. It seemed so. He answered her, "We can certainly find out … And if they don't, maybe we can get them to change their minds." She smiled. He thought for a moment and then added, "I know you already know how to ride your bike very well, but do you think you would be able to keep up with those boys?"

"Oh yes Daddy," she happily replied.

William and the girls had finished up early, so he took advantage of the extra few minutes. There was a store near the Club that would likely have a pocketknife to buy for Julia. He purchased a Victronix Swiss Army Knife with four attachments for her. The girls were permitted to look at it, with him reminding them constantly to be careful. They also were sworn to secrecy. He wanted it to be a surprise gift for Mommy. They agreed.

William held the door to the large building for his young daughters when they went to pick up Julia and William Jr. at the swimming pool. Julia had enjoyed a swim and was now changed into her regular clothes and sitting at a poolside table with two other women. William Jr. was still in the pool finishing up a group lesson.

One of the women leaned in closer to Julia and the other woman while her eyes stared at the pool entrance and said with a sultry voice, "Now _that_ is a handsome man."

All eyes turned to the door to see William who had come in with Katie and Chelsea. The other woman said, "Married though." Julia smiled.

Just then Katie caught sight of her mother and called out "Mommy," as she and Chelsea started to run around the pool to her.

William called out authoritatively, "Don't run!" and both girls immediately slowed to a hurried walk.

Both ladies turned to look at Julia. One said, "Your husband then?"

"Yes, yes he is," Julia responded, bouncing up to sit a bit higher in her seat. The girls arrived with quick hugs and the excited tale of their adventure. Chelsea showed her mother her injured arm. Once William arrived, Julia introduced him to the ladies. One of them recognized him, and then Julia too, from the newspapers. The parents spoke briefly about Chelsea's injury. William went to get first-aid supplies from the pool staff. Julia nearly blushed as she noticed the way the other two women eyed her husband as he walked away. Julia cleaned and wrapped her daughter's arm. They used her towel to make a sling. Julia said they should stop by the morgue on the way home to x-ray it. William Jr. finished up and changed into his clothes. He then joined them to be filled in on all that had happened. They said good-bye to the two ladies who had been sitting with Julia. One of the women thanked Julia for her suffrage efforts. Julia suggested she join the fight and they arranged a time to meet about it.

As they walked over to the restaurant, Katie whispered to her mother, "Dad said we won't look like the classiest bunch in the Club Restaurant today." Julia concurred, reaching over to brush some dried mud off of Chelsea's much wrinkled skirt.

The Murdoch's walked into the restaurant at the Club, approaching the maître d. They were quickly informed that they were no longer members at the Club, and therefore would not be seated. Julia calmly said, "That is absurd, we have been members here for years."

"Madame, I regret to inform you that I was told you were removed from the Member's List," the man sternly said.

Julia was getting angry, her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing their focus, "Why?" she demanded.

The maître d leaned forward, lowering his voice to suggest a secret, "Because Madam, because of your … illegal acts."

Julia was furious. Her tone took on that of yelling, while William carefully took her arm, imploring her to calm down. She charged, "Hypocrites! … Many of the men here, and some of the women too, even some of those on the board, have committed much worse crimes …" Two men appeared at Julia's side to "escort her, and her family, to the door."

The children were startled, asking questions and raising the tone as they followed their parents towards the door. One of the men took hold of William's arm. That did it. He insisted, "Unhand me … and my wife," as he shook his arm free. Julia started to rant and he took her arm, held her eye and insisted she calm down. He took a deep breath, and exuding an air of confidence and of being in command, he walked back to the maître d, his family following in his wake.

The maître d said insultingly, "You were never wanted here anyway _**detective.**_ "

"Regardless," William said, "We are full members at this Club. Our dues are paid. We have supported functions sponsored by the Club... Further, we did not receive notification of any kind that we were no longer members here."

The maître d merely apologized for the oversight, but insisted that they would not be seated.

William took a deep breath, working to stay calm and said, "Who makes such decisions here?"

Julia answered him, explaining that the board meets monthly and votes on such things.

William turned back to the maître d and asked, "When did they vote to remove us from the Member's List?"

"The last meeting was three weeks ago," the man responded.

William took another deep breath and went on, "That was plenty of time to have notified us. I brought the children here just last week. No one mentioned anything then?"

"Your name had not been removed from the list last week, but the decision had been made. It was an oversight," the maître d explained.

William's neck turned red. Julia knew that now he was losing his patience as well. She stood at alert, as did the children. She couldn't help but be thrilled. This man really didn't stand a chance once William took the intellectual gloves off and she knew it.

William leaned in very close to the man. His opponent would feel the strength of his breath on his face. Deliberately and firmly he said, "My dear sir, you forget my … our, profession … We know that more than one man present right now…" William turned and focused his attention on a particular man eating at a table within sight – a very influential man, "… has been arrested for crimes much more shameful than standing up for political convictions, as my wife did. Do you want me to start calling them out … here and now?"

The maître d acquiesced quickly. He called a waiter over to take them to a table. Once they were at their seats, Julia said in a low voice, "Thank you William. That was very impressive."

The children had questions. William looked around, figuring it would be good to know exactly who was in attendance and explained that they would explain it to them later. Time passed, waiters passed and it became apparent that no one was taking their order. William and Julia discussed it. They decided that William should call over a waiter that they knew. He did so. The waiter, Tom, was clearly very uncomfortable. He felt quite a conflict as he personally liked the couple. They were always respectful and friendly with the staff, and they were highly popular and famous in general, but he also knew he could lose his job. William decided to let Tom go, not asking him to take such risks.

He asked Julia if she recognized anyone present who was on the board. She pointed them out. William asked which ones were most likely supportive of her or her causes. At one table, there was a wife of a board member that she knew who had donated money and even spent some time in support of women's health clinics that fought for contraceptive rights. They reassured their children that they would be fine, and that it was very important that they behave while they were alone until their Mom and Dad got back.

William and Julia joined couple – William pulling up a chair, Julia sitting in a chair already at the table. William explained to the man that he understood that the board voted to remove them from the Member's List, but they were never notified and no dues were refunded. Now they were here with their family and wanted to have a nice meal. He suggested that the Club just let it be for now and then let them argue their cause at the next board meeting. The man seemed reluctant so William went to his strong suit, "As you likely know, as members of Constabulary, we are aware of the transgressions of many of the members here. For instance, that man over there is known to frequent prostitutes…" the man looked at the culprit and gulped, he obviously knew what William was saying was true. William continued, "Thus Dr. Ogden would not be the only member to break law. Further, the law she broke is quite political in nature – with growing support for her point of view…" Now all eyes fell to the man's wife. William finished his argument, "Perhaps a little time to think about it before deciding at the next board meeting would allow for a more … considered decision?" The man's wife insisted he give them his support. It was agreed and the man spoke with the maître d.

Back at their table, now being served, Julia told the children that their Daddy was brilliant. The children asked what their mother had done to cause so much trouble – being arrested, jailed, and then kicked out of the Club – shunned. Their parents explained that the law their mother broke requires that women cannot control when they have babies. They explained that many people, including their parents, believe women should be able to control when they have babies. Their mother broke the law by teaching some women how to do this. William reminded them about the conversation they had had about standing up for what you believe in being like being in a thunderstorm – the tallest thing gets hit by lightning, and their mother bravely stood up the tallest for what she believes in. They explained that from now on she wouldn't have to stand up alone. She would have the support of their father, and others, and they would stand up by fighting to change the law. Important lessons, their parents thought.

The two boys on the bikes earlier came in to sit at a table with their mother; she was one of the women Julia had been sitting with. William noticed that Katie noticed. He was sure he was right about her liking one of the boys. He wondered which one. Both of them were older than Katie. He hoped it was the youngest one. He reminded himself to ask Julia about it later.

As the Murdoch's finished up and headed out of the restaurant, the boys' mother called Julia over. She said, "I believe some of your family met my boys earlier."

"Oh?" said Julia, looking at William.

William smiled and said, "Yes … they were very helpful after our horses had been spooked. With a grateful nod to the boys he said, "They caught the pony that ran off. Thanks again, um … What are your names?" William swore he saw Katie jump with excitement with his question.

The oldest boy, probably about 11 years old stood up and extended a hand and said, "You are very welcome, sir. My mother tells me you are Detective Murdoch, a fellow Catholic. Oh, and my name is Franklin O'Keefe, sir." He nudged his younger brother to stand and introduced him, "And this is my brother Theodore."

William noticed that the youngest boy looked at Katie when he said, "Or Teddy … You sure rode that horse well today… I have never seen a girl ride a horse so fast." Julia gave William a surprised look. He would definitely need to talk to her about this later.

Katie said, "Thank you … Teddy. I'm Katie and this is William Jr. and Chelsea."

Julia and Mrs. O'Keefe solidified their plans to meet. The families said good-bye and the Murdoch's left. Once outside, Julia told them that the O'Keefe family was very wealthy – they ran the famous brewery and were involved in banking. Eugene O'Keefe, the woman's husband and boys' father, had died earlier this year. Katie told her mother she wanted to go bicycling with the boys.

Julia leaned down and squeezed her daughter's shoulders. "Well they certainly seemed keen," she said. I'll speak to Mrs. O'Keefe about it when we meet. Katie thanked her mother and asked her not to forget.

The stop at the morgue revealed that Chelsea's arm was not broken. Her mother put on a sturdier bandage and they made a better sling. She would try not to move it too much for one or two days. The family dispersed quickly when they got home, the children going down to the playroom in the basement for a while, Julia to change into something more comfortable – really to get out of her corset! – and William to start the chili he was making for dinner.

As he worked in the kitchen, he heard the children arguing, by no means an uncommon event. He listened, seeing if they would resolve it themselves but it seemed to be escalating. He headed down to deal with it. Katie had wanted to play with one of William Jr.'s toys, taking it without asking. When William had pulled her aside to talk to her, he had said that he expected better of her, that he knew she knew better, and he was disappointed in her behavior. The little girl had burst into inconsolable tears. Julia heard the ruckus and came down stairs. William had already lifted Katie in his arms when the child saw her mother.

Although William didn't think it was possible, Katie started crying even harder once she knew her mother was there. Katie sobbed, "Daddy doesn't love me anymore," and fell into heaving sobs on his shoulder. The child was hyperventilating so that her parents worried she would become ill.

"I've got it," William said to Julia. "I'm going to take her out on the porch. Can you check the pot I have on the stove?" he asked as he carried Katie up the stairs. He said caringly in her ear, "Katie, you have to take a deep breath sweetie, hmm?" She did, lungs seeming to shake and stutter with the strain. His heart broke for the tiny girl. She had already had such a hard life, and her ability to trust that she would be loved had always been a challenge. Put into an orphanage with her younger sister when she was four, she had come to feel unlovable as many couples refused to adopt two children, usually because Katie was considered to be too old. He reassured his daughter that his love for her was not, and never would be, in question. But, he wanted her to try really hard not to disappoint him or her mother, but if she did, then she would need to try to figure out how to repair their trust in her. He suggested saying you're sorry, but in a way that makes it clear that you know what you did was wrong.

"But even if I asked, he wouldn't have let me play with it," she said so quietly it was hard for William to hear her.

He wiped away a few tears and said to her, "Well, Katie … it is William Jr.'s toy. He does have a right to say 'no' and if he does, you need to do your best to find something else to play with that makes you happy. Do you think you could do that?"

Katie nodded her head and dried her tears, and _**she**_ suggested she go apologize to William Jr. for taking, and keeping, his toy without asking him. William gave her his handkerchief to clean up. Then she went, _**by herself**_ , downstairs to do just that. William only hoped his son would be gracious about it – which he was.

He returned to the kitchen to finish getting the meal on track. Julia came back up from downstairs and walked up behind him, figuring she might be able to get him back for the torture he put her through while she stood at that very stove this morning. She reached around from behind him, worked to loosen his tie, nibbled on his ear.

William said, "You know, I think you were right. They really are quite wonderful children." Julia was now undoing the buttons of his vest. "On that horse today… Katie really handled a chall…" he stopped mid-sentence, as Julia had slid her hand under his vest to massage his chest through his shirt, and had found, and was pinching, one of his nipples. He felt his groin rising, his head beginning to swim.

After breathing slow and strong into his ear, Julia's voice was sultry as she answered, "Yes."

William turned around. He put his arms around her waist; she put hers around his neck. He said playfully, "Mrs. Murdoch … Are you trying to distract me – some sort of revenge for the toast this morning."

"Are you finding it hard to concentrate?" she asked, and then kissed him.

He located her ear and told her, "I believe I would also burn the toast." They shared a chuckle. William pulled back, breaking the romantic trance and asked if she wanted to help empty the dishwashing cupboard. Not thrilled, she agreed. Soon after they began the task, his mind drifted to the case and he said, "The man with the poison blade planted in him …"

Julia rolled her eyes, although she didn't believe William saw her do so, thinking, " _The case, what else?_ " To let him know she had caught up with him she added, "John Lynch."

"Yes… The killer could not have known which coroner would get the case, but they would have known that I would be the detective called. Perhaps I am the target?" he suggested, wrinkling up one side of his mouth.

"No, no I don't think so William," she answered. She explained, "The clothes were not cut … The blade had to be inserted into the body, and then the clothes were put on it. If the murderer wanted to poison you, they would have cut through the clothes to reveal the wound, figuring you would have touched it at the scene to examine it."

"Mm-hmm, I see," he agreed. Then he remembered to ask about Katie. "Uh, Julia … Um it seemed to me that Katie quite liked the boy we met today, Teddy… Um, is it possible for a 7-year old girl to have such feelings?" he asked, twisting his face with doubt.

She answered, "Well, our friend Ruby had a "boyfriend" at seven, and they kissed – I mean really kissed. So, yes, I guess so… I myself don't remember having those kinds of feelings until I was quite a bit older, fifteen or sixteen even."

William, standing next to her, caught her eye with a sideways glance and teased her, "Too bust being a tomboy?"

Julia sighed, feigning exasperation, and then said, "I guess there is no point in denying it," with a roll of her eyes up to the heavens.

William took the last two plates out of the dishwashing cupboard and said, "I do believe I might have had my heart broken then, if I had met you when you were thirteen or fourteen. I'm fairly sure I would have fallen head over heels in love with you … It would have been hard to be so in love with someone who was not interested."

Julia reached over and turned him to her. She reached up to undo the top buttons of his shirt. Keeping her eyes focused on her task she said, "Somehow, I think that if I had met you, I would have been interested." She felt his hands slide over her hips, press into her back, pulling her to him. She heard him take in a deep breath, prompting her to lift her chin, tilt her head, invite him. " _Oh this is luscious_ ," she thought as their kiss melted her through and through.

Neither of them heard the children come up the stairs, didn't even know they were there until William Jr. said, "Told you."

Chelsea flapped her hands in the air and grumbled, "We're bored."

Their parents stopped their kissing. Still holding the other in their arms they discussed what to do. William said he wanted to have some time to work-out and then shower – and he knew the girls needed to be cleaned up too. Julia suggested that the children also 'work-out' – he could teach them how … And she could use an anatomy book to show them each muscle they were working on. The children loved the idea, jumping up and down and begging for the chance. It was decided that the space was too small downstairs in William's work room for the whole family, so they brought the weights and a mat up to the back patio.

Right before William went to change out of his suit, Julia asked, "Perhaps you could work-out bare-chested," with a wink.

He leaned close to her and said, "No," evoking a pout. His laugh warmed her though and she ended up giving him a giggle. He showed up wearing the pants he used for bicycle races and an undershirt. Julia found herself pleased despite the lack of a bare chest to admire. They opened the anatomy book and left it on the side table next to the rocking chair Julia sat in. Chelsea sat in her lap, unable to 'play' because of her injury, but absolutely loving the nurturing attention she garnered from her mother. William would show the way to work a particular muscle. They would do it for a few moments until they felt the pain start – then the children would try to identify the particular muscle in the book. They really did have a great time and learned too!

William checked the pot on the stove, cooking chili was meant to be a long, slow, process. Then he took the girls up for a bath. He showered too, while the girls played in their room for a few minutes after their bath.

Julia stayed on the patio with William Jr. The boy sat with the anatomy book in his lap, seemingly engulfed by the pictures. Eventually he asked, "Mom, do you think I could be a doctor?"

She rested her elbow on the arm of her rocking-chair and laid her chin in her hand. Her beautiful blue eyes held the chocolate brown ones of her son. She replied, "To tell you the honest truth …"

Matter-of-factly her son interrupted, "I don't see how any other kind could be of value to me," he said.

Julia laughed warmly and said, "You certainly are William Murdoch's son," shaking her head at the uncanniness of it.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

A smile still glowing on her face she answered, "It's just that that is exactly the kind of thing your father would say."

"Oh," he noted. His eyes dropped back down to the book.

Julia took on a more serious tone and said, "What I was going to say is that I truly believe you could be anything you wanted to be. You are smart, athletic, focused … Do you want to be a doctor?"

"Was it hard," he asked, "Becoming a doctor?"

"Well yes … There is a lot of studying. Um, though in my case it was much harder than for most because I am a woman," she explained.

The boy thought for a moment and asked, "Is there something different about women that makes it harder for them to study … to do the things doctors need to do?"

"Julia leaned closer to him and said, "No … No. Women are just as capable as men at doing all the things doctors need to learn and do, but the way the world is set up … the way society makes the rules, well, women aren't supposed to be doctors, or much of anything else really, except mothers," she elaborated.

"How about detectives?" William Jr. asked.

Julia leaned back, realizing for the first time really, that her husband's career seemed to be even more blocked to women than being a doctor was. " _Huh_ ," she thought. She sighed and answered, "I don't believe there are any women policemen – although I know of at least one private investigator who is a woman… Do you want to be a detective, like your Dad?"

He dropped his eyes again, "I don't know – It sure does seem hard." They were quiet for a time and the he asked, "Mom, are men and women the same, or are they different?"

Julia shifted in her chair; this one would take a little more work. "Well … they are both the same, and they are different," she answered, knowing this would only drive him to be more curious. His eyes darkened as they dilated, he really wanted to know. Julia sighed, " _How should I go about this?"_ she thought. "Some of the ways they are different are really easy to see. Like they have different anatomical parts, you know, like either a penis or a vagina." William Jr. nodded – His parents had used the correct anatomical terms for these parts since he was born – He was familiar with them. "But, of course they mostly have the _same_ anatomical parts, arms, stomachs, lungs, hearts… But I think the biggest difference is that women get pregnant and give birth and nurse, men don't," she concluded.

"Why?" William Jr. asked.

Julia laughed, "I won't be able to answer that," she said. "But it has really big consequences, like that women have to be the ones to carry and nurse the baby, and so they can't do certain things, like go to work every day, if they are caring for the babies."

"How did you do it when you had me … weren't you still a doctor?" he asked.

She patted her lap, inviting him to sit with her. He crawled onto her thighs and rested his head on her shoulder. She rocked with him while she went on to describe what it was like when she had gotten pregnant with him. She reminded him of some of the stories he already knew, like that his father had to do surgery to deliver him and save her life because they were stuck at home in a snowstorm when she went into labor with him. "You were born on our dining room table, thanks to your Daddy, and to me too – I had to teach him what to do," she said. "You and I were in the hospital for nearly two months while I recovered…Then, when we came home, I stayed home from work for six months, and after that I started back at the morgue part time because I was still nursing you … And we hired Claire-Marie. I started work again full time about a year later, when you were weaned." She kissed his head and said, "Your Daddy and I were so happy, so in love with you from the moment you were born… It still makes my heart glow when I remember it." She gave him a big hug and a kiss and then said, "I'm going to go check on your sisters and your father. Do you want to come?"

He looked back at the book and asked, "Can I look at the book more?"

"Sure," his mother replied. He sat back down and turned the page. She went upstairs.

William made the cornbread and the family heartily ate it up with the chili. It was delicious. Over dinner they decided that they were too tired to go to the beach tomorrow. They would rather relax and spend some time bicycling in the park, maybe climbing trees, and stopping for some ice cream.

Julia had recently purchased a new adventure book to read to the children, " _The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu_." William read the first chapter to them in the living room after dinner. Afterwards, he asked who wanted to help him in the kitchen preparing hot chocolate and choosing a sweet snack from the things Eloise had left for them. William Jr. and Chelsea volunteered, leaving Katie some time to sit on her mother's lap and catch up.

Julia stroked Katie's hair and gave her hugs and kisses. She asked, "So, it sounds like you had quite an adventure today … Young Teddy sure was impressed – Said you went very fast, hmm?"

Katie nestled deeper into her mother's arms and said, "It was very scary, Thunderbolt spooked – he turned around and ran so quickly. I was afraid I would fall off with him going that fast."

Julia leaned her face down closer to her daughter and said, "That does sound very scary indeed. What happened next?"

"Well I tried to stop him. I pulled as hard as I could on the reins, over and over again, but it wasn't working…" she said, her voice clearly conveying her fear. "And then Daddy … he saved me Mommy, like he saves you," she said, receiving a hug from her mother. "I heard Daddy's voice. I couldn't believe he was there…"

Julia asked, "What did he say?"

Katie took a deep breath and answered, "He said that no horse could run faster than I could ride…" Katie sat up and turned to look into her mother's eyes. She said, "It made my fear go away. I knew that even if couldn't stop Thunderbolt I would be alright."

Julia nodded, thoroughly entranced in her daughter's story, "Then what happened?" she asked.

Katie put her head back on her mother's chest and said, "Then Daddy reached over from his horse and pulled hard enough on Thunderbolt's reins to stop him. He saved me, like a hero."

Julia smiled and tightened her hug, "Yes, your Daddy is a pretty good hero, isn't he?" She felt the little girl nod against her chest. Julia let her thoughts carry her for a moment, saying, "The words Daddy said, 'No horse can run faster than you can ride' … they are profound somehow."

"What is 'profound'?" Katie asked.

"It means that the words have a deeper meaning too – like they teach you something about life … I'm not quite sure what though…"

The others returned with a tray of hot chocolates and cookies. The children knew that after they were finished eating this snack, it would be time to go upstairs and get ready for bed. They tried to dilly-dally.

Chelsea asked, well more begged, "Please can Mommy read us Cinderella."

As expected, William Jr. complained, "Not that silly love story again. That's all you ever want to hear, Cinderella, Cinderella…"

Katie piped in, "Please Mommy, please… You haven't read it to us for a long time."

Julia lifted her eyes to meet William's. He could tell from her look that she wanted to give in. He hesitated as he tried to think of what concessions they could give to his poor son who would have to listen to this story one more time. He had an idea. He said, "How about this?" leaning forward out of his chair, "We all go upstairs and get your teeth brushed and get changed into our pajamas. Then we come back downstairs and Mommy reads Cinderella…" He held a hand out towards William Jr. who immediately groaned and said, "Wait, wait… Then we take a few blankets out on the grass in the backyard and lie down and look at the stars. It's a beautiful, clear night…"

Smiles all around, and that's what they did. Everybody, even William and Julia, in their pajamas, they sat in the living-room listening to Julia read Cinderella. She sat between William Jr. and Katie on the couch; Chelsea sat on her father's lap. She read, explaining that Cinderella had a hard life – she was mistreated and unloved. And how her fairy godmother used magic to send her to the ball, but all the magic would disappear by midnight. She read about how Cinderella and Prince Charming fell in love, but then she ran away … Julia hesitated again and looked up at William and said, "Maybe there are some similarities here," conjuring a chuckle from him – Both of them thinking of her leaving him to go to Buffalo. Julia went back to reading, "The only clue Prince to Charming had to use find his true love, Cinderella, was her slipper which had fallen off to be found by him on the stairs… The slipper fit Cinderella perfectly and they married and lived happily ever after."

Chelsea's voice said with glee as she sat shifted to sit up taller on her father's lap, "I love that story Mommy – It's just like you and Daddy."

William rubbed her back and said, "In _**some**_ ways little one."

William Jr. was already standing up when he excitedly asked, "Which blankets?"

The family laid under the stars, marveling, breathing, whispering in awe to each other. Of course, William couldn't help but point out particular constellations, like Sagittarius. He beamed with pride as each child already knew exactly where the Big Dipper was in the sky and how to use the two stars at the end of its cup to find the North Star, and then how to use the North Star know which way is north, south, east and west. They were bright, that's for sure.

When they were tucking the children into bed, Julia stayed in the girls' bedroom telling stories for a time. William ended up sitting on William Jr.'s bed talking with him. The boy was full of questions – more than usual. He had asked his father why his mother had wanted him to work-out earlier without a shirt. William explained that his mother liked the way his chest looked – she liked the look (and the feel too, but he didn't say that) of his muscles. William Jr. asked him if _he_ could see his father's muscles and William agreed, pulling his pajama top off over his head. His son wanted to know if he thought that he would have muscles like that someday.

"Certainly," his father answered, "But only if you work at it. Muscles only get big if you use them."

"So that's why you use them to lift the weights, so they'll get big and Mommy will like them?" the boy asked.

William thought for a minute and then said, "Well, I guess I mostly do it to make your mother happy…"

"Do all women like big muscles?" William Jr. interrupted.

"Yes, I think they do," he answered, "But bigger muscles help with all sorts of other things, like catching criminals, or carrying heavy things … lots of things really."

They were both quiet for a moment. William Jr. had a much harder question he wanted to ask, but he was … uncomfortable, unsure of how to ask it, unsure of how his father would react. It was his mother, not his father, who had explained to him so many years ago how men and women make babies. He looked away from his father's eyes, down at the blanket, and said, "Um … Dad, I saw some pictures in Mom's anatomy book … pictures of women's insides and …"

" _Oh,_ " William thought.

Just then Julia peeked her head in. Her eyes dropped, her jaw a little too, at William's naked chest. She picked her eyes back up to meet William's and said, "Um … the girls are tucked in…" Her eyes held his … asking.

William gave his son a quick glance and said, "Just some _man_ talk," bringing a noticeable sigh of relief to William Jr.

Julia's eyes dropped back down on her husband's chest, then up to meet his eyes again. She said, "Oh, I see. I should go then. Good-night William Jr. I love you."

"Good-night Mom – I love you too," her son replied and she went down the stairs.

William told his son about a part of a woman called a uterus, or womb, and that it is at the end of the vagina inside of the woman, and that it is where the baby grows. William Jr. asked how the baby gets inside the uterus to begin with. William reminded his son what he already knew, that the man's sperm connects with the egg inside the woman's uterus and then the baby grows for about nine months until the woman goes into labor and the baby is born through the vagina. But then came the really hard question – One which William remembered Julia had explained, or tried to explain, to the boy when he was only three or four years old.

"But how does the man's sperm get into the woman's uterus?" William Jr. asked.

This prompted William to rub his forehead. He wasn't sure he could, or even should, explain. He asked, thinking it might save him some of the trouble, "Do you remember what your mother told you … about how the sperm gets inside the woman?"

"Yes. She said the man puts his penis into the woman's vagina. Is that true?" his son asked.

William could feel that he was blushing. He coached himself, " _It is just science. Just biology._ " He cleared his throat, he could tell it had grown dry and answered, "Yes, um … that is true."

Now the boy sat up in his bed. Curiosity had completely taken over his face when he asked, "But how does the sperm come out of the penis? Do sperm come out … when I use the toilet?"

Quickly William replied, "No. No. When you use the toilet only urine comes out… Sperm only come out…" He reached up and rubbed his forehead again.

"When dad?" – He really wanted to know.

William took a deep breath and looked his son in the eye and said, "Sperm comes out when the man's penis is inside the woman – When the man and the woman are having sex. There's no urine then, only sperm."

"So people have sex to have babies?" William Jr. concluded.

William sighed. "Well, sometimes… But, um, sex feels good, so sometimes people do it even if they don't want to have a baby… That's why some people, like your mother … and me too I suppose, want contraception to be legal. So that people can have sex, but not have to have the woman have a baby because they did… Do you understand?"

William Jr. lay back down and said, "Did you and Mom want to have me?"

"Oh William Jr., we wanted to have you more than anything in the world … more than anything," William said, surprised as he felt himself choking up with the memories. He pulled the blanket up over his son's chest and leaned forward to kiss his head. "Now that we've got all that settled, it's time for you to sleep young man," he said.

"Good-night Dad. I love you," William Jr. said, tucking down deeper into his bed.

"Good-night son," William said as he turned off the light and closed the door. " _Whew_ ," he thought as he headed down the stairs. His head was buzzing.

He found Julia out on the blanket under the stars. He lay down next to her, each on their backs, the Milky Way twinkling above them. They were quiet for a while.

Julia spoke, "Well? …" she said.

Reaching back to tuck his hands behind his head, making himself a small pillow, William offered, "He saw some pictures in your anatomy book … of reproductive anatomy…"

Julia rolled over onto an elbow and exclaimed, "William! You had the sex talk!"

"Mm-hmm," he answered, a smile uncontrollably growing on his face.

"Oh how I would have liked to hear that," she said, giving him a delighted squeeze.

With quiet contemplation, Julia rested her head on his shoulder and stroked his chest, thrilled that her ever-so-buttoned-up husband had broken with convention and now laid outside in the grass with her, wearing nothing more than his pajama bottoms. She never would have thought it. Although, he did design the house well – a big back yard, surrounded by trees. Certainly none of their neighbors could see them. "Do you think we should talk to the girls about it too?" she asked him.

He rolled over on his side, lining his face up with hers. Although the moon had not risen yet, he seemed to be able to catch her eyes in the darkness. He took one of her locks in his fingers, twirling it as he said, "I think William Jr. will tell them what he learned … and when they each are ready, I think they will ask."

"Seems wise," she said.

He felt her breath on his face. The sensation pulled him even closer, seeking their familiar intimacy. William sighed, feeling relaxation overtaking him, slowly revealing his tiredness, mixing it with his contentment. He slid his hand down to her shoulder, gave her a soft push, rolling her onto her back. He closed the distance between them. "Quite a wonderful, but long, day," his voice disclosed, his lips hovering over her ear.

"I am more exhausted than if I had worked in the morgue all day. It feels like days ago that I awakened you, initiated … well, you know," she said as her hand traveled over his shoulder. "How could a day off from work be so …"

"Full," he finished her thought with his interruption, "It was very full," he shared, the husky tenor of his voice, located so close to her brain, sparked a melted, intoxicating yearning in her.

"Mm," she agreed. She was going to say ' _exhausting_ ,' but she liked his description better. Images of the day flashed through her mind; the stress and success of fighting not to be kicked out of the Club, the ladies ogling her truly gorgeous husband, her son in her lap savoring her stories of the beginnings of his life, then Chelsea, nestled, safe, content in her lap and William allowing their children to feel and study his biceps, deltoids and triceps, Katie telling her how her Daddy had saved her, and then the reeling, swirly feeling overtaking her as this man, this man who now lay beside her under the universe, stood behind her as she cooked, touched her in such a bewitching way that it caused her to burn the toast. Her attentions were drawn back into the moment. His soft kisses caressed her ear, her face, her neck, while his hand frolicked in her hair. Julia released a satiated sigh and then said, "I feel wonderful William, happy and safe."

"Good," he answered. He kissed her, gentle and slow. Offering only a flicker of the tongue across her lips before his mouth moved on to taste her chin, then her neck. Passion swelled between them, in them, through them. He drew in her scent, only to blow the effect of its power over him, hot and steamy, out rippling across the skin of her neck, pouring along the neckline of her nightgown, bringing about a rise in the tide of her want for him.

Desire drove Julia's hand urgently down his back, under his pajama bottoms, to squeeze and knead the firm muscle of his buttocks. She was rewarded by his hungry moan. Its vibration in her mind surged the taught pressure in her womb. Her breathing hurried, stormed, as her mind dizzied, floundered and flopped, swirling downward and inward towards her lowest, deepest center. "I want you," she implored, her warm breath teasing the skin of his shoulder. Unable to stop herself, her hand slid under the fabric of his pajamas, wildly seeking that which she craved, starved for deep in her core. William reached down, untied and then lowered his pajamas, freeing that which she sought. Upon her touch, he quietly whimpered, weakened by his need. She cupped him, glided her fingers up and down repeatedly around him, gasping as her wedding rings lightly caught the canopy of flesh bordering the tip. Oh how she wanted him. "William," she breathed, "Please." She released him from her hand, then frantically grabbed for the bottom of her nightgown, dragging it up to bunch around her waist, summoning him, tempting him with access.

" _Slow it down William_ ," he coached himself, scarcely hanging on to control.

She shoved her pelvis under him while she clawed and pulled him down to her. "Please William … Oh my God … Please," she pleaded. Her body took on a seductive rhythm, sucking at him with all her might. "Please don't tease me," she begged. She felt him searching for the bottom of her nightgown wrinkled around her waist. She lifted her body up and helped him slide the gown up further, aiding him in pulling it over her head.

Her deep, desperate moan echoed through the air when he tightened the gown around her wrists and used it to pin her arms up above her head. Her defenselessness weakened her, her consciousness yielding any sense of control; she twitched and arched with deep aching lust. She turned her head to the side, voice whispering and yelling, "Please … please," before she called out with another desperate moan.

His mouth further restrained her as he tenderly gripped the skin beneath her ear in his teeth. He brought himself between her opened thighs. Julia whined with anticipation. She arched up into him again, eliciting contact. William's weight crushed down onto her as he used his other hand to line himself up to enter her. Her breathing rushed. He breached her, forcefully but gradually. He moaned, letting go of her neck, engorging her brain with the sound, as his mouth took her earlobe. Sultry, slippery, and balmy she yielded to him, surrounded him as he pressed upward, deeper into her, closer to that perfect spot. Julia's hips pumped, enticing him. The dam of self-control broke open. William began to thrust into her hard and rough. " _Hurry_ ," she thought, tightening and laboring with every muscle in her body. Cycloned to the edge, Julia felt the precipice give way under her.

William heard it, felt it, her gasp right before she fell. It called him, lured him, seeming to clear the way. Now within his grasp he surged further into her, " _There it is_ ," he thought, " _Right there_." His strokes extended. "Oh my God," his voice softly thundered into her ear as he coursed warm magma through her very soul. Currents of ecstasy spread outward through her from the spot where they touched deep inside; waves of spasms lifted her to him, only to drop her limp body once she had become filled with warm, delicious contentment.

Complete, his hot, humid breath fumed with a strong beat over her ear, and his heart rhythmically pummeled against her chest, creating a cadence with her own heartbeat pounding inside of her. " _Oh my God I so love this man_ ," she thought as she opened her eyes to see the sparkling heavens above them. "I love you William," she whispered in his ear.

He rolled over, slipping out of her as he did so, joining her in beholding the stars above. "And I you," he whispered back. He pulled up his pajama bottoms, she covered back up in her nightgown and they lay together under the stars. Soon their bodies had cooled, the heat from their efforts during lovemaking having evaporated in the breezy night air. William found the other blanket and pulled it over them. Julia rested her head on his shoulder.

"William," she asked, "Katie told me about how you saved her today, caught her horse, brought him under control…"

"Yes," he said.

"She told me you said something to her that dispersed her fear. It sounded so profound to me …" she continued.

"Mm," he said.

Julia repeated it, "No horse can run faster than you can ride… It seems to teach something important about life, somehow guiding one on how to handle fear … by using focus."

"How?" he asked.

"Well," she said, "It is like when life seems to be getting out of control, and you are on the verge of panic, becoming more and more aware of all of the things that could go wrong…"

"Mm-hmm …" he said, asking her to go on.

She paused, thinking, and then said, "The words seem to advise one to focus on the very specific happenings in the moment, rather than letting your mind rush ahead to all of the terrifying possibilities up ahead. To handle each step as it happens, until the storm passes and you can regain control."

"Seems wise," he said. William and Julia soon headed to bed, tired and happy.

 _ **For William and Julia, this was the calm before the storm. They would have to ride very fast, faster than they had ever ridden before, to stay with this horse.**_

 _ **Notes: Eugene O'Keefe was a real Catholic beer-maker and banker who died in 1913 – however, the family described here is not accurate to history.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 9: Sunday, August 10, 1913

It must have been about four o'clock in the morning when the phone rang in the Murdoch house. Both Julia and William heard it, neither one of them moved with the first ring. William was in that state between dreaming and being awake; Julia was now awake, thanks to the phone, but figured William would get it – it was on his side of the bed. It rang again. Julia mumbled, "William."

"Mm," he said, still not moving.

By the third ring, she accepted her fate and decided it would have to be her to answer it. She slid her body over his – way over his, to reach the phone on his nightstand. She picked it up on the fourth ring. Her voice was scratchy and dry, "Hello?" she said into the receiver. Her husband took advantage of having her curvaceous body tauntingly dangling over his. He adjusted his position underneath her and took her breasts in his hands, pushed them together and buried his face in the resulting cleavage. Her body reacted to his touch, his breath, his kiss. She tried to keep the tone of her voice unaffected, "Yes … He's right here," she said to the constable on the other end of the line. Julia covered the end of the receiver with her hand, hoping for privacy. She pushed back onto her knees, removing William's source of distraction and passion and whispered, "It's Constable Stevens. He says it's an emergency."

William sighed and took the phone. Julia definitely intended to take advantage of having the shoe on the other foot, instantly sliding her hand into his pajamas and touching him where she knew he would have to struggle to suppress a moan of pleasure. She giggled as he managed it, but mouthed his reaction, "Ooh," as his hand took a hold of her wrist, attempting to stop her ministrations. She decided to take pity on him and removed her hand, then rolling over on her back next to him. William's expression indicated that it was serious indeed.

"Was he inside?" he asked. The answer took too long to be a simple yes or no. Julia was wondering who and where. "I'll be right there. Please call Constable Crabtree. Thanks," William said before he hung up the phone.

Julia sat up, and asked, "What is it William?" He appeared … upset, worried … maybe even scared.

He sat up next to her, held her eye and said, "The Inspector's house … There was an explosion. It's on fire… I have to go." He got up out of the bed and pulled his pajama top off over his head.

Julia also got out of bed. "And they don't know if he was inside … Oh my God, Margaret!...William," she said.

He already had his trousers on and was pulling out a shirt. He reached up to rub his forehead and worried, "It was 3:30 in the morning," he said, wrinkling the corner of his mouth, almost apologizing for his pessimism.

Within minutes he was dressed and leaned in to kiss her good-bye. "I'm going to take the bicycle – too hard to get a cab this early on a Sunday morning."

She held him for a moment, even though she could tell he wanted to go. She stroked his tie and then slid her hand across his chest and said, "I'm sorry William," thinking, " _This may be hard_." She kissed his cheek, "Be careful," she said and then she let him go. She listened to the sound of his footsteps going down the stairs, the pause as he put on his hat, before she heard the front door open – then close. Julia sighed. How could she possibly sleep now, the Inspector and Margaret may be dead, her husband may be in danger. She sat down on her side of the bed, her eyes falling to the gift he had given her last night.

Somehow, for a pocketknife, it looked so classy. With all of the attachments folded inside, it fit nicely in her hand. She admired the pearl surface, noticing the opulent greens and pinks glimmer as she moved the knife, shifting the light. She opened the knife-blade. " _It wouldn't kill anyone with a stab,_ " she thought, " _but if you cut across the right place,_ " and she surely knew the right places, " _it could be deadly_." She closed it up and took it over to her vanity, hoping leaving it there would remind her later to put it into her purse. She turned off the light and crawled back into bed.

" _Such a little gift, for no reason really, but that he wanted me to have it_ ," her mind toiled. Sleep seemed far away. She hugged his pillow, wishing it were him, her memory and her heart being stirred by his smell. She remembered lying under his spent body last night, looking up at the sky full of stars above. The happiness and feelings of being at peace, of being exactly where you should be, flooded through her again. For a moment, she thought, " _He's probably getting there now,_ " picturing him dismounting from his bike, being silhouetted by the flames. Feelings of dread seeped up in her gut. She rolled over, taking his pillow with her, trying to change the subject. She heard his voice in her head, " _No horse can run faster than you can ride._ " " _Focus William_ ," she thought, prayed, " _Stay with each step; ride each moment_."

Constable Crabtree stood with his back to the flames waiting for the detective to prop his bike against the fence. He had his notepad out.

"George, what have you?" the detective asked, quickly coming to stand next to him as they both scanned the scene. Multiple fire wagons were there, thick hoses spraying water at the slowly fading flames. The devastation was remarkable. There was no roof – no second floor. Photos and papers littered the lawn; some floated in the air in the breeze that was created as the heat from the burning house drew them back in.

George quickly reported, "Neighbors reported hearing an explosion around 3:30 AM. Once they ran outside, the Inspector's house was already in flames. Some of them reported seeing something … something big up in the sky… heading south."

Detective Murdoch swallowed, pushing himself to ask, "Do they know if there are any bodies?" He sighed, able to tell from the damage what the Constable was going to say.

George lowered his voice and replied, "There's really no way to tell sir. The bedrooms were on the top floor."

"Yes. I see," the detective responded.

Mr. Meyers' cigar glowed brighter for a moment as he inhaled, drawing their attention. "Murdoch, Crabtree," he greeted them, his eyes fixed on the burning house in front of them.

The detective reached up, rubbing his forehead, hoping to disband some of the stress that was harbored there. "There's reason to believe this was linked to the Flate case."

"Oh," Meyers asked. George also raised an eyebrow, wondering how the detective could have ascertained that so quickly.

"I'll need those plans you took – the ones for the armed dirigible," Murdoch continued, providing George with the connection he had made. He explained, "A large craft was seen in the air just after the explosion. I believe a bomb was dropped from a dirigible."

"Oh my," George uttered, sounding both awed and worried.

"George," the detective continued, "We will need constables to head to the south from here and ask people if they saw anything in the sky. If so, we'll need to know where and when… We are also going to need armed constables, probably best with rifles, to take shifts out on watch for any sign of this dirigible's return – day and night George." The detective paused, imagining what a constable could do if they spotted such a dirigible in the sky. He added, "Inform them only to shoot if it seems likely that a crash would not cause any serious harm…" He wrinkled the corner of his mouth with doubt and said, "Unlikely though… If they deem it unsafe to fire on the craft, tell them to fire warning shots into the air, and let's hope people take heed, coming out of their homes to see what's going on, and then they can decide for themselves whether or not they feel it is safe to go back inside." The thought reminded him that he would need to talk to the press.

"Yes sir," George said, noting it in his notebook.

The flames had been brought under control by the firemen, the remains of the house spewing heat and smoke into the early dawn air. Murdoch was the first to step forward. The other men followed. The foyer was still intact. The men walked up the steps and crossed the threshold into what was left of the house.

George looked up the stairs to the second floor, seeing the sky shining through the smoke. "It doesn't look good sir," he said.

"I don't know George," Murdoch said, focused on, and somewhat amazed with, the jacket hanging on the hook that had not burned. He reached out, slid it over to reveal the wall behind it. He explained, "There is some reason for hope – The Inspector's fancy cane and his hat aren't here."

Meyers took another puff on his cigar and said, "Very observant Murdoch."

"Indeed," George added.

Inspection of the house provided no evidence that there were any bodies inside. Murdoch had no luck finding any remnants of the bomb or explosive. By the time William left the scene to attend the mass at Connor's church, with the hope of finding him and of finding Jane, the constables had at least two reports of people to the south seeing something big and moving in the sky. By all reports the craft kept going south. Meyers agreed to bring the dirigible weapons plans by to Murdoch's office later. George intended to take a few constables and see if anyone had seen the Inspector and his wife. He reminded the detective that last night was their anniversary. Perhaps they had gone to the theatre, or out to dinner.

William arrived at the Catholic church early as he had planned. After genuflecting at the altar, he greeted the priest who remembered him by name. He took a seat in a pew near the front of the church, figuring his best bet at recognizing Connor would be when the congregation came up to the altar for Communion. As the individuals filed by him, stopping to take the Holy Host, he tilted his body to the side, thinking he might recognize a man as Connor about ten people back in the line. Their eyes met and Connor bolted for the door. Murdoch took up pursuit, ducking around startled people, calling back apologies, as he ran out behind the suspect.

William charged out the church door, his head swiftly turning to the left and then the right, hoping to catch sight of the fleeing man. " _That way_ ," he thought, noticing a man on a bicycle who had been thrown off balance and was yelling down a side street at the likely culprit. Rapidly he ran, grateful for his bicycling, rounding the corner at top speed, only to slow and then stop, as the way ahead was tight, with many places for someone to hide in wait.

Connor had ducked into a stairwell on the left. His gun was drawn, raised up in front of his face. He intently listened for any sign of Murdoch's approach. His sister's harsh voice ran through his head, " _He will have to die… But you cannot be the one who kills him. No, that must be Isabel. If anyone gets caught, it needs to be her. Make sure to assist her, but make sure you can't be implicated in any way. "_ He thought, " _Sorry dear Cecily, I may have no choice._ "

William stood at alert, eyes fixed down the center of the street, instinctively relying on his peripheral vision to detect any motion. His ears strained, hoping to hear any crucial sound. But his mind played warnings, causing him pause. The memory of Julia, sobbing and breathless in the bedroom at the lake-house, pulled at his mind, " _I would never be able to heal from the loss of you William. I know it,_ " she had cried. Then his brain conjured up an argument in support of continuing the chase, " _If you catch him now, he won't be able to continue killing_ ," he reasoned with himself. William leaned forward, took a cautious step. Then his little daughter's distraught voice flowed in, " _But what if you die, will we have to go back to the orphanage_." He felt sick. William swallowed, as if to push the rising nausea back down. He thought, " _I promised not to die."_ With a sigh, he backed up; he had decided not to continue into the danger. If Connor were there, he would get away.

William returned to the church and asked people if they knew the man with the scar and the Irish accent, offering the suspect's photograph as a final clue. There was one man who had carried on a few polite conversations with him. He said he worked down on the docks, and that he had come here from Ireland about four years ago. The detective headed back to the station. He would have Higgins, " _No, another constable_ ," he thought, remembering that it was Sunday, look through the records of boats arriving from Ireland four years ago, for anyone with a first name of 'Connor,' – " _It's a needle in a haystack, but perhaps we'll get lucky,_ " he thought.

Once he got back to the station, he called Julia. Eloise answered and said that the family had headed out for a while. He asked her to let Julia know he had called, that they didn't have any definitive evidence on the Inspector or Margaret yet. He thanked her and hung up. Julia's autopsy report on John Lynch was on his desk from Friday. He picked it up and began to look it over.

There was a knock at his door. Meyers walked in carrying the plans and said, "So, no news yet I presume?"

William stood and replied, "No, nothing yet."

Meyers hung his hat on Murdoch's stand and held the plans up, "The dirigible," he said.

William took the plans over to his work table and opened them up. A storage area for grenades caught his eye. He took a deep breath and said, as he pointed to the spot on the plans for Meyers, "Perhaps they use grenades with a timing system – I believe there are such devices with a pin that is pulled out before it is thrown, in this case overboard, giving a pre-established amount of time before it explodes." He tilted his head, evaluating his own idea.

Meyers said, "That certainly could have caused the damage we saw at Brackenreid's house."

"Yes, yes…" Murdoch answered. "But I would think it would take some skill, and likely practice, to be able so selectively hit a target."

"Mm," Meyers mumbled in agreement.

William investigated the plans for any more weapons the dirigible might be armed with. He noticed rows of guns mounted along the bottom of the dirigible, suggesting they could all be fired without the pulling of a trigger, enabling multiple shots at the ground. " _Those constables might have their hands full_ ," he thought.

Just then the constable at the front desk called out, "It's the Inspector – He's alive!" Everyone rushed over to hear. He handed the phone over to Murdoch. A few moments later, Murdoch hung up the phone and told everybody, "The Inspector and his wife stayed at a hotel last night as a special way to celebrate their anniversary. They weren't home when the explosion occurred. One of our constables sighted them while asking for witnesses that might have seen them. He is going to stop by and look at the damage to his house, then he will be coming here to the station." There were cheers all around.

Meyers said into Murdoch's ear, "That's a big relief."

With a big smile on his face he answered, "Yes, yes it is." Then he hurried to his office to call Julia. Eloise answered the phone again. Julia was still not back, but she would give her the good news when she returned. After he hung up the phone, his relief became peppered with the sadness of knowing how big of a loss the Inspector had suffered, prompting him to sigh.

Meyers had followed him back into his office and asked, "Do you think there's anything else in the plans?"

"Can you leave them with me?" the detective asked, "I'd like to get the dimensions – There can't be too many places to hide such a large airship." Meyers agreed to do so. William decided to call James Pendrick for any ideas of possible dirigible hiding places. He compiled a list of a few potential locations before the Inspector arrived.

Murdoch, Meyers and the Inspector spoke for quite a while. The Brackenreid's would stay in the hotel until they either rebuilt their house or purchased a new one. He told William to thank Julia for her advice about having a romantic celebration in a hotel, although he had opted for overnight rather than for "lunch" – The decision had saved their lives. The detective shared his speculations about the dirigible causing the explosion at the Inspector's house and the targeted poisoning of a coroner, and any possible connections between these two crimes and Flate's and Lynch's deaths, and Connor's illegal weapons business. They couldn't be certain whether they were all part of one plan, or they represented two different diabolical plots – one to make money off of selling illegal weapons, and the other possibly to disrupt the Constabulary. There was some evidence to suggest they were all part of one plan, but either way it was complicated.

Knowing it was nearing dinnertime and very much wanting to be home, William wrote out a quick list of steps to take tomorrow. His eyes fell once again on Julia's post-mortem report. " _Now_ w _here do these 'monkshood' plants grow?"_ he wondered. He went to his book collection in the backroom. After a little searching he found it – The plants have yellow or blue flowers. They do particularly well in the northern latitudes in mountainous areas, sometimes growing wild in meadows. Several species of _Aconitum_ are cultivated in gardens, thriving in garden soils, and they will grow in the shade of trees. They are easily propagated by divisions of the root or by seeds. The book cautioned that care should be taken not to leave pieces of the root where livestock might be poisoned and not to touch the leaves with one's skin. " _Our murderer could have grown it himself,_ " he concluded, " _Right around here_." With that he headed home, hoping to at least catch the last half of dinner.

Dinner was set up in the dining room because the Murdoch's had a guest – Harry Murdoch (William's father). As Eloise brought out the meal, the family, except for William, sat at the table talking. The children were clearly enthralled by their grandfather's story, mesmerized by his big gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. Harry Murdoch was an excellent story teller. The sound of the front door opening caught everyone's attention. "Can we go?!" William Jr. asked for himself and his sisters.

"Yes," replied Julia, her happiness that her husband was home and safe, and in time for dinner, glowing on her face.

William barely had time to hang his hat before the children bombarded him with their hugs and kisses. He knelt down with open arms to receive them. Through laughter he said, "I'm glad to see you too."

Quickly they started informing him about their exciting day. "Daddy, Daddy, We saw pigeons … Pigeons that carry notes on their feet!" Chelsea exclaimed first.

"It was great Dad," William Jr. added, "And we got to hold them and even send a message with one!"

"Really now!" their father replied. "That does sound quite exciting," he continued, looking up to see Julia watching the scene unfold. As often happens between the two of them, once William's eyes met those of Julia's, sparks seemed to fly, it was as if music began to play. Looking at her he asked, with an eyebrow raised in disbelief, "Pigeons?" He stood, approaching her with his head slightly tilted to the side examining her, questioning her, carrying a delightfully playful and teasing look on his face, "Pigeons?" he asked again.

Suddenly, an uneasy feeling rose up in Julia's belly. Only then did she realize that perhaps she had made a mistake, now that she felt this twinge of fear upon encountering the thought of telling William what she had done. She dropped her eyes from his. "Um, Well …" she sputtered as she started to try to explain.

Then William's eyes shifted to the man who had just walked up behind her – his father. The playful look fell from his face to be replaced by one of shock, even betrayal. He looked back at Julia and said, his voice harboring anger, "What is _**he**_ doing here?" Everyone froze upon hearing his tone. Every heart in the room sped up and took alert.

Harry moved forward towards his son, "Willy," he said jovially, "I came by to see my son, and his beautiful family – my flesh and blood, son."

William's eyes stared into those of the old man. He was trying to think of what to say. All of the choices that sprung to mind seemed too harsh – " _Get out! You are not welcome here_ ," and, " _Whatever would make you think I would want you anywhere near my family?_ " Unable to come up with something he found acceptable to say in front of the children, William simply stood there, looking stunned and angry.

It was Eloise who broke the tension, "Dinner is getting cold," her stern voice could be heard from the kitchen. Everyone went into the dining room and took seats. William cast an angry eye at Julia as they settled in. Food was passed around. Silence still had not been broken. The children looked back and forth between their mother and father, their worry apparent in their expressions.

Finally William spoke, "Would you like a chance to explain?" he asked Julia.

Her discomfort was revealed as she wiggled in her chair, adjusted her skirt. She knew she had to tell him everything, and she knew he would not like it. She sighed and said, "Perhaps we should talk in the other room?"

Disappointment covered his face. He sensed a fight was coming, and he really didn't like arguing with Julia. Placing his fork down on his plate he answered, "Perhaps."

The couple went into the parlor. The children all turned to gaze upon their grandfather, demanding some sort of an explanation. Harry told them that he and their father had not always gotten along; that he had made some important mistakes and their father was still mad at him for them. But he had every intention of not making those mistakes anymore. Soon, the conversation had lightened and the group was making plans for training some of Harry's pigeons to fly right here to this very house every day so they could exchange messages.

Once in the parlor, William sat down in his usual seat – the reclining chair closest to the fireplace. Julia took a seat next to him on one of the couches. He stared down at the ground, seeming resigned into letting her start.

She was scared, frightened that her actions were going to hurt him, cause him trouble. She realized now that she hadn't really thought things out as well as she should have. She took a deep breath, calling him to look up at her. She planned on telling him the whole story. She began, "Harry rang the bell this morning. He had little gifts for the children – asked if he could visit. I told him you weren't home, but by then the children had already come to the door and had seen him. Harry told them right away that he was their grandfather… He is very charming William – the children fell in love with him within seconds."

William reached up and rubbed his forehead, "Yes, he is very charming," he agreed. "And you should know better – Be able to see through it," he added.

Oh, that made her heart pound faster, her brain cloud up with worry. He was going to blame her. She could only agree, "Yes, I guess I should have," she replied.

He held her eye, knew she wasn't done. "The pigeons?" he pushed.

" _Oh my God, this gets so much worse,"_ she thought. "Uh," she stammered, "He stayed for lunch … and over lunch he mentioned his …" she would have to push herself to say it, "Um, his new business…" William threw his hands up in the air and looked to the heavens for strength. Julia sighed and pushed on, "Um, He has started a pigeon carrier business…" William laughed out loud, but not because he found it funny – It was a condescending laugh, a laugh at his utter inability to believe she could be so gullible. She tried to defend herself, "Radio signals can be intercepted, and so a means of sending messages that can't be intercepted has some merit." She added, "And there are many global signals that war is on the horizon – he could make a lot of money if the timing is right."

Shaking his head in disbelief, William said, "Julia, I …" He dropped his eyes away from hers again. He took a deep breath and grabbed eye contact with her once more, his tone was demanding, impatient when he asked, "Did he ask for money?"

She held his eyes. Tears began to well up in hers. When she blinked and looked away, the drops flowed down her cheeks. She said, "Uh…" but ended up only being able to nod her head.

" _So, she agreed to give him money_ ," he thought. "How much?" he asked.

Julia swallowed, working to be able to speak, and answered, "Seven thousand."

William's jaw dropped, "Seven thousand dollars – You agreed to give a drunken …" he said, standing, shaking his head. He started to walk away, but turned and came back. Loudly, he said, "You will march in there right now and you will tell him that he will not be getting any money from this family!" William demanded with his eyes burrowing deeply into hers.

"I will do no such thing," she fired back as she stood to meet his glare, finding his male-dominating attitude completely unacceptable. Their voices were loud enough now to be heard in the kitchen and dining room, where all movement had stopped as everyone was tuned in to listen. "Since when do you tell me what we can do with our money, Oh all-mighty _**man**_ of the house?!" she insisted.

"You say " _ **our**_ " money – But you really mean " _ **your**_ " money don't you?" he charged. He argued on, "If you really thought of it as " _ **our**_ " money, you would have consulted me – No?! It's never truly been our money has it? Deep down you know – and believe me, I know, it has always been _**your**_ money!"

She walked to stand directly in front of him and said, "Of course I don't think of _**our**_ money as _**mine**_!" she yelled. Then, with her tone softening she added, "And you are right, I should have consulted you…" She took a deep breath and continued, "But I do not think I should rescind on the offer. Harry already told the landlord he had the funds…"

William refused to argue about this with her any longer. He turned and rushed into the dining room. His confrontation would be with the man he felt was really at fault in all this – his father. With Julia on his heels, William burst into the dining room and firmly asserted, "Harry, Get out. Get out now, and don't ever come back. You will not be getting any money from this family. And I will not allow you to break our children's hearts either."

The old man stood, looking ever so the victim. He started to speak but turned to look at Julia as she took up the fight.

"William, you are over-reacting. He is the only grandparent our children have. They have a right to know him," she argued. William's look burned right through her. She had never seen him so angry before. Still, she held her ground.

He turned his eyes back to his father and said through gritted teeth, "Get out!" and he pointed to the door.

Harry ducked slightly and said, "Sure son. I'm going. But you'll come to see that you're making a mistake here, Willy…" he continued speaking as he walked to the foyer and lifted his hat to his head. He glanced down at the children who had followed along and said, "I hope you children know how much your dear old granddad loves you."

Katie ran up to her father and pulled on his jacket, "No Daddy! Please don't make Grandpa go!" she cried.

William didn't think he could get any angrier, but that really did it – That this noxious man could invade his house when he was away, take over his family, and then make him look like he was the bad guy in the eyes of his children! "Out!" William stormed, rushing to the door, appearing as if he would physically remove the man if necessary.

"Alright, alright. I'm going Willy," Harry uttered as he opened the door and left.

As soon as the door shut behind him, all eyes turned to William. "Really William," Julia said with an air of disapproval.

"But Dad, we really liked him?" William Jr. added.

Knowing he could not stand to stay, William grabbed his hat and headed out the door as well. This time it was closed with a slam.

All eyes turned to Julia. She herself felt stunned. There was a buzzing sound in her head and she realized that her mouth was agape. Battling for words that were too slow to come, she simply stood there, glancing at her children and the slammed-door intermittently.

"Why is Dad so mad?" William Jr. asked.

"He, uh…" she said, turning her attention from the door to her son, "He…" An emotion finally emerged out of the startled, soupy mix she found herself in – Regret. Julia sighed. She suggested they go back into the dining room. The four of them sat at their seats, not one lifting a bite to their mouths. Chelsea and Katie played with their food, pushing it around with their forks.

" _I should have known better_ ," Julia thought. She reminded herself of the struggles and hardships William had encountered in dealing with his father. Not the least of which was having spent most of his life believing the man had caused his mother's death. Upon looking into her son's eyes, she knew she had to help their children somehow see that their father was not completely unfounded in the way he had just acted.

"I want you all to look at me," she said, her tone signaling the importance of what she was about to tell them, evoking them to lift their eyes to meet hers. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, to prepare, she said, "Your father has very good reasons to have gotten so upset…" She found it hard to say what she was about to say, dropping her eyes away at first, but then quickly and firmly connecting them back with the children. "I made a mistake… I did not consider your father's feelings when I decided to let Grandpa in, and for us to go to his house and business, and even worse, to give your Grandpa money. Your Daddy has good reason to be angry with me," she explained, more deeply recognizing her mistake upon hearing it said out loud.

Katie asked, "Will we still be able to see Grandpa?"

"I don't know… I don't know… I will talk to your father about it," she answered.

William Jr. asked, "Why does Daddy hate his father so much?"

The words stung, sounding harsh and hopeless. "It's not that he _**hates**_ him. It's that he doesn't trust him," she said.

"Why not?" Chelsea asked.

Julia picked up her fork and took a mouthful of food, giving herself time, and signaling a calmer mood. "Your Grandpa made many mistakes – mistakes that hurt your father and his little sister, Susana, and their mother too," she answered.

"What kind of mistakes?" Katie asked.

Julia sighed. She noticed that the children were eating again too, feeling grateful for the relief that came with the realization. "Your Grandfather often got drunk and yelled … And he, well, he …"their mother leaned in towards them, increasing their intimacy, as she reminded them, "You know that your Daddy's mother died when he was eight-years old, like William Jr. is now. Well, after that happened, your grandfather took your father and Susana to live with an aunt … and they ended up in a home, and well, your grandfather just left them… He never wrote or contacted them again. It was only by accident that your grandfather and your father ever ran into each other again, and by then your father was thirty-years old or so," she explained.

Everybody was quiet for a few moments, letting their imaginations help sink her words into their understanding. William Jr. lifted his head from his plate and said, "But Mom…"

" _He sounds so optimistic_ ," Julia thought. Her son's eyes glimmered with an important discovery, reminding her of William.

He put his fork down for emphasis and leaned into the table, "Dad says it's not the mistakes that define a man, but what he does to fix them that does. Why not give Grandpa a chance to fix them?"

" _My God, he has an amazing memory like William too_ ," the thought distracted her from answering for a moment, giving time for Katie to ask …

"Do you think Grandpa can fix his mistakes, Mommy? Do you think if he did, Daddy would trust him again, and let us visit him?" her excited voice ventured.

Julia did not feel as hopeful. "It's complicated," she said with a sigh.

By the time Julia tucked the children into bed, it had started to rain. She sat alone in the living-room, trying to focus on reading a medical journal, finding that instead, her mind either replayed images of William yelling and being so distraught, or raced ahead planning for what she could say to him when he came home. With a deep sigh, she glanced at her watchlet. It was ten o'clock, " _Ironic_ ," she thought. It was only a week ago that she stood at her prison cell window, having used his pocket-watch to be sure it was ten o'clock, and then sharing a thunderstorm with him rather than the moon as they had planned. She decided she would wait for him out on the porch. Upon opening the front door, she immediately felt the mist from the windblown, teeming rain sweep over her. He was outside in this, and he was likely hurting. She so wished he would come home, that they could talk. The weather deterring her, she closed the door and went upstairs. She would prepare for bed.

Julia changed into her nightgown and brushed her teeth. She stared at the bed, considering what would likely happen when he came home. Figuring he would still be upset, probably even angry, she decided to bring some bedding down to the couch for him. She brought along his pajamas, and a towel, too. She sat on the couch next to the pile, unable to leave it for him without an explanation, without making sure he knew that she wanted to make up, that she wanted to sleep with him in their bed, and the pile of bedding did not signify otherwise.

The door opened, carrying with it the sound of the pouring rain and the wind. Julia bolted out of her seat, hurried to meet him. He saw her out of the corner of his eye as he hung his hat. She halted. "William," she said.

His eyes met hers, briefly. He noticed the towel in her hand. She offered it; he took it from her, used it to wipe his face and then rub it vigorously over his hair, finally wrapping it around his neck. He turned his attention to removing his drenched shoes. He spoke as he did so, seeming to talk to the air. "I did not come back to talk to you Julia… Not because I thought you would be worried. I came back _**in spite**_ of your being here … Because I was wet, and I was tired," he sighed. He looked up at the ceiling and said, "And because this is my home," he exhaled, dropping his eyes to the floor. He swallowed, attempting to push away his burning emotions and added, "And, even if I don't have as much claim to this house as you do, it is the only place I have."

She was reminded of his earlier claim that she, and he himself too, believed their money was more _**hers**_ than his – and she thought that the result of this was that he felt like he didn't belong. She stepped closer to him, tried to catch his eye, and said, "But it is just as much your home as it is mine William. We built it together. There is no reason you should feel …"

He interrupted her, his tone impatient and annoyed, "Julia, you didn't pay attention to what I think, didn't care what I felt, before I came home earlier today. Don't be a hypocrite by acting like you care how I feel now." He pulled the towel off of his neck and turned to look towards the stairs. "I'm going to go upstairs and get dry, and then I'm going to sleep on the couch. I want to be left alone," he stated as he headed up the stairs.

William collected a pair of clean pajamas from the drawer. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Julia waited. She knew she wanted to, needed to, apologize. He left his soaked clothing hanging in the shower. When he came out, drier and dressed for bed, he looked around and figured out that she had already brought the bedding downstairs.

Julia decided to try saying she was sorry. "William, I … should have thought, considered, how you …"

He walked away, went down the stairs. She followed. It was going to be tougher than she had thought. William began to prepare the couch for sleep.

Julia continued to try to talk to him while he did so. "I'm sorry William. I really am. You are right that I should have consulted you; that I should have known you wouldn't agree to lend your father money … that you would worry about him disappointing our children…"

William sighed loudly as he reached for the pillow. "Julia, sometimes an apology is not enough. The damage is done … now," he said standing with eyes fixed down on the couch, unwilling to look at her.

"What do you mean," she asked, "What damage?"

Rubbing his forehead, he simply looked at her. He offered no words. Then he looked away again.

"We won't give him the money, William. He won't visit with us, see the children," she said, shaking her head, confused, she asked, "What damage can't be undone?"

He slapped his hand down to his side abruptly and said impatiently, with a sense of warning, "Julia, I said I wanted to be left alone." He stood staring down at the couch, jaw tight.

Julia stepped closer to him, tilted her head seeming to peer into his face, "But William, you're not being reasonable. I have apologized. I have yielded; we can do what you want …"

William sat down on the couch. He tried to explain, "Julia, you are the one person in the world who I thought really knew me, really cared for me. And if that were true, then I think you would _**not**_ have let him in, not have let …" his voice rose in anger again, "Now it looks like I'm the bad guy because it has to be _**me**_ pushing him out – when he should never have been let in here in the first place."

Julia charged, "If that were true?! … If that were true! Are you truly questioning whether or not I care for you? I can't make a mistake, huh William. I have to be perfect or I don't love you. Is that how it is? Well, that's too much pressure," she argued.

His eyes pierced into hers. They steamed with anger. "I mean it Julia. Go upstairs, now. Or I swear," he said, raising his arm to point at the front door, "I will walk right back out that door. I don't care that I'm in my pajamas."

"Fine," she steamed. "Then stay here by yourself and have you little self-pity party," she said before she stormed out.

 _ **Big storms are on the horizon, and the one thing William and Julia have always had going for them is how powerful they are when they work together. But now…**_


	10. Chapter 10

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 10: Monday, August 11, 1913

Having finally drifted off to sleep after struggling with her emotions in the wake of her argument with her husband, Julia was awakened by knocking at the bedroom door. Barely conscious, she recognized it as their children asking to come in. Instinctively she reached for William to see if he was awakened as well, the feeling the cold sheet next to her reminding her about the pain of last night. A sadness seemed to seep down into her.

"Come in," she called out. The door burst open and their three young children flowed into the room, immediately crawling up into the bed with her. She received a kiss and a hug from each child before they settled into a cuddly mass, five-year old Chelsea on Julia's left, seven-year old Katie on her right, and eight-year old William Jr. next to Katie, propped up with an elbow on his Daddy's pillow.

"Are Daddy and you still fighting?" Katie asked, aware that this commonly explained his absence from this bed, that or he had to go to work early, or he had never made it home from work the night before.

Her mother attempted to comfort her, stroking her blond locks and said, "Yes, I'm afraid we are. He's down on the couch."

William Jr. rolled over onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head. "I don't like it when you and Dad fight," he stated.

Katie next to him said, "Me too."

Julia sighed and added, "Me three."

Little Chelsea, the last in line, rose up on her elbow to look at the others and excitedly claimed, "Me four!"

Julia squeezed her in a hug and said, "You are so smart. How old are you?"

"Five," the child proudly answered, holding up her hand to display all five extended fingers.

Julia added, "I think that if your Daddy were here he would say he doesn't like it when we fight either."

"If you don't like fighting, why do you do it," Katie asked.

Thinking about it for a moment before she responded, Julia shifted her position to sit up, leaning her back against the bed's headboard. The children joined her. "I'll bet you don't like fighting with your brother or sister, but you still do, right?" All three children nodded. "Well, it's kind of like that for your Daddy and me too. If you don't talk out your disagreements … and all relationships have disagreements, then whatever is bothering you only gets worse … until it kinds of explodes. So it's better to argue about problems than to pretend they aren't there," their mother explained. Julia knew this first-hand, as her mother and father tended _**not**_ to fight, to hide their negative feelings from each other. She wasn't sure she ever actually saw them fight, but she knew they were unhappy, lonely really, even though the other one was always right there, at least until her mother died when she was twelve.

Julia took a deep breath and then pulled the children close for another hug, "Mmm, I love you so much," she said before she released the tension. "Now, I think your Daddy could use some hugs and kisses and to be told you love him too, hmm," she said, encouraging them to continue on their parent-greeting rounds.

Downstairs, Eloise had come in, quickly noticing the detective sleeping on the couch. She wasn't surprised, having witnessed much of the drama yesterday evening, but she felt a gloominess capture her heart. She had truly come to care deeply for this family, and she so hated to see them suffer. Their mother, his wife, had only recently been able to return home. With a sigh she headed into the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. Optimistically she told herself, " _They'll work it out. They always do_."

William was uncharacteristically sound asleep when the children came to him, having gotten up at four AM the day before, and then argued and tossed and turned nearly all night. Besides his thoughts about how unloved and misunderstood he felt, how angry he was, and even some of regret, he suffered with interminable insomnia once his mind focused on the case – Becoming convinced that a dirigible would fly over their house and drop a bomb, killing his family upstairs. The children were on top of him before he awoke.

"Good morning Daddy, Chelsea's little voice said in his ear as she burrowed in closer, lying next to him on the couch. Only a second later, William Jr. rolled down onto him from the back of the couch and Katie planted herself squarely on top of his chest.

"We love you Daddy," Katie said, trying to find a way to hug him even though the tight sheet wouldn't allow her arms access.

William worked his arms free from the sheet and wrapped them around Chelsea on one side and William Jr. on the other. He pulled them into a strong hug and said, "And I love you too – so much."

William Jr. said, "You know Dad, I think I'm getting too old for all this hugging…"

"Perhaps," his father replied.

"But not too old for this!" he exclaimed as he pulled William's pillow out from under his head and dashed off the couch.

"Me too," yelled Katie as she worked to pull at, and bundle up, the sheet on top of him.

"No you don't!" her father said as he scooped her up into a bout of rambunctious tickling. She screamed with glee, peppering it with lively giggles.

Katie handed off the sheet to Chelsea who bolted for the kitchen, calling out triumphantly, "I have your sheet Daddy!"

Eloise heard the ruckus as the children and their father began to roughhouse, the warm, playful sounds bringing a contagious smile to her face. The littlest, Chelsea ran past her to hide under the kitchen table. She clutched a curled up sheet in her arms and whispered, "Don't tell Daddy I'm here, alright?" Eloise nodded and pretended to be completely focused on cooking.

William charged into the kitchen, Katie tucked under his arm, arms and legs dangling and flopping about as he ran. He quickly spotted Chelsea under the table, causing her to release a high-pitched scream and bolt for the door, only to be scooped up and captured. Now holding two little girls, William set off to find his son – to regain the pillow. Chelsea screamed a little too close to his ear. "Sweetie, you're going to break my eardrum," he complained.

The child reached up and pulled at his ear. "You have a drum in there, Daddy?" she asked. Both William and Eloise burst into laughter. He placed both girls down at the foot of the stairs and said, "Now, you've been captured. Time to go up and brush your teeth."

"O.K. Daddy," Katie said, taking her little sister's hand. Briefly he watched them start up the stairs, dragging the sheet behind them.

William grumbled, loud enough for his son to likely hear, "Now, where is that son of mine." Taking hold of the downstairs bathroom doorknob, William knew he'd found his quarry as the doorknob would not turn as easily as it should. William Jr. was holding it on the other side of the door. Adding more force to the task, William turned and pulled hard enough on the doorknob to drag the young boy, who was riding the wave of the swaying door, out into the hallway. The child was swept up onto his father's shoulder to be carried with a fireman's-hold up the stairs.

Upstairs, Julia had gotten fairly far along on getting dressed for work, needing her corset and her stockings next. She had basked in the lovely, joyful sounds of her children playing with their Daddy. She heard his voice in the hall outside their bedroom, the special sound of it playing the one perfect note that seemed to ignite her soul. She didn't think it was possible to love someone more. She stood at their bedroom window, looking over the backyard. Her eyes found the spot in the grass where they had made love so passionately under the stars. A sigh escaped her lips as she remembered the argument.

William entered and closed the door behind him. Having not completely changed gears yet, he slowed, breathing heavily from the hearty play. She stood with her back to him, softly silhouetted by the light from the window. She didn't turn around; though he was sure she had heard him come in. He noticed that she looked beautiful. She waited, letting him set the mood.

He pulled his pajama top off over his head, thinking he had to hurry a bit. He said, "I need to talk to you about the case – catch you up on what happened yesterday."

She turned to face him, letting her back rest up against the wall and replied, "Yes, of course William … the case, or cases, in this case," giving in to a giggle at her own joke. Her smile settled as she recognized from the look on his face that her humor served only as a mere dalliance to him.

He went into the bathroom, tackling the typical morning undertakings of brushing his teeth and shaving. Through the toothbrush he said, loudly enough that she could hear from the other room – She had started putting on her stockings, "The Inspector's house was likely bombed … from a dirigible that flew overhead…"

"Oh my," she said, authentically startled by his statement. After a pause she asked, "Do you think they would want to …"

Mouth clear of toothpaste now, he stood up taller at the sink and finished for thought for her, "Yes, I think they might have other targets in mind as well … I worried about it all night, being alerted to every sound, thinking that we were in danger here." William turned for a moment, catching a glimpse of her extending her long leg, toes pointed, her rounded calf muscle taught, to be sheathed in her stocking. His body reacted, his breath seemingly stolen, his heart hurried, his groin heating up and rising. An intrusive image of Harry walking up behind her last night reminded him that he was angry at her; he turned back to the sink. Spreading shaving cream on his face, he was aware that she had not responded to his statement. Her silence suggested that the thought had roused fear in her. He moved on, "And I spotted Connor at the church … He saw me, recognized me. He ran and he got away. But I did get another clue – He arrived here from Ireland on a boat about four years ago… Maybe that will get us somewhere."

When he emerged from the bathroom, he saw that Julia had been wrestling to put on her corset by herself, a sure sign that they were not yet back to normal. She asked for his help. Sexual tension kept at bay, he performed the task. He had finished dressing, albeit for his tie, before her. Using her vanity mirror, standing behind her to secure the tie into place, he caught her eye. Their connection clicked for a moment, before he remembered he was angry and he turned away. He sighed and said, "I want to make sure the children don't see the newspaper. I think the whole bomb-loaded dirigible thing would frighten them." With that he headed downstairs.

" _It frightens me_ ," she thought.

As the family ate breakfast, a new and creative treat Eloise had prepared – Reuben sandwiches, there was little talking. It was not quite a 'walking-on-egg-shells' kind of tension, but no one could think of something to talk about other than the fact that William and Julia were still arguing. Thus all of the conversation focused on the newly discovered food.

The phone rang and Claire-Marie came to get the detective. When he returned he said to Julia, "A body has been found… The scene is said to be quite … gruesome."

"My bag is at the morgue," she replied.

"My murder-bag as well. We can stop by the station on the way," he suggested. He continued, "It is a woman … Perhaps unrelated to the other killings," he thought out loud.

"Perhaps," she answered.

Taking a deep breath, implying there was something else on his mind, William asked, "Julia, if, as you said, the murderer of Mr. Lynch would have had to put the clothes on the body after planting the poison knife-blade in his body…" She nodded 'yes,' encouraging him to go on. "Well, then would he not have possibly gotten his fingermarks on the buttons?" William finished, sounding excited and bright.

"Well yes, William. He might have," she agreed, "But, I believe all of the clothing has already been incinerated," she said, taking another bite.

He sighed, then fell into thought. " _I would have to remove the excess soot somehow, but it could act to highlight the print if I can remove the soot from the rest of the surface and leave it on the fingermark. Then I might be able to use some sort of carbon-based fluorescent chemical that would stick to the carbon in the soot,_ " his mind rushed to consider. "Julia, do you think that, if I could remove the soot not stuck to the fingermark … and then use a fluorescent carbon-based agent …" he wondered.

She nodded, swallowing her food, "Yes, yes it's possible. Zinc carbonate I think might do it!" she said excitedly.

"Good," he said.

Chelsea happily said, "Mommy and Daddy aren't fighting anymore."

Both parents looked at each other, regret on their faces. William blew out some air, trying to calm himself and replied, "No sweetie, your Mommy and I still haven't worked out this whole mess with your grandfather yet."

William Jr. asked, "But you are talking… you are not fighting … Everything seems fine."

Julia reached over and placed her hand on his arm and said, "Your father and I don't really ever fight about work, son. We might disagree about some theory or another for a crime, but we don't fight about such things." She took her hand back and sipped some coffee. Knowing they needed more of an explanation she said, "Relationships, really important ones, like being married, they are complicated. It's different than just working with someone."

In the carriage, William and Julia sat mostly in silence as they rode to the scene. William sighed. He had hoped that they would not have to deal with each other much at work today, making their strained relations less detectable by others. Further, he found it much more difficult to remain professional with her while feeling angry. Worse yet, having to interact with each other when they were trying to hold their unresolved problems at bay seemed to cause the problems to fester underneath the façade.

Their carriage pulled up to what appeared to be an abandoned house. No one was around. William thought to himself, " _Odd. I wonder who called in the body?_ " He stepped out of the carriage first and reached in to get his murder-bag. Normally he would hold a hand out to assist Julia as she stepped out of the carriage, but he simply turned and walked away, leaving Julia to sigh before grasping the side of the carriage instead and dismounting. She rolled her eyes at the sight of the back of him and reached in for her bag. This was going to be tough.

The front door was open. They followed a trail of blood, lots of blood, on the floor to an upstairs room. The door was ajar. Peering through it, William guessed it might be a library as he saw bookshelves along the wall. He gave Julia a look, telling her to stay back, than he softly pushed against the door, slowly swinging it open. The scene was shockingly disturbing. Blood was everywhere. The body of a naked woman, at least she was probably naked, the body was so covered in blood that it was actually hard to be certain, laid belly up on a table in the center of the room. William took a step, crossing the threshold.

Julia reached out, blocking his chest with an arm. "Wait William," her voice whispered a warning. "Something is not right," she said. She offered an explanation, "There is way too much blood." William stepped back to stand next to her. She elaborated, "Easily twice as much blood than is in the human body. I think the scene has been staged."

William took a deep breath. In light of recent events, it was certainly a possibility. "A set-up," he added in a whisper. William discerningly studied the scene, looking with a more skeptical eye, honing in on anything that could signal potential danger. He spied a wire across the floor, low, near the ground. It ran from side wall to side wall across the room, just barely coming into contact with the legs of the table on which the body rested. He pointed the tripwire out to Julia. Then he removed one of his shoes. Protectively guiding her to stand behind him, he then tossed his shoe at the wire.

Gunfire spewed across the room. It sounded like rounds and rounds of gunfire. Wood splinters sprayed everywhere. The sound was nearly deafening. Instincts took over and William dove on top of Julia, throwing both of them to the ground. He stayed covering her, she on her stomach under him. He had shielded her, tucking her head under his shoulder and cradling the back of her head with his hand. It was now silent, with only the smell of the gunpowder in the air and the painful ringing in their ears to hint at the danger.

Julia didn't remember how she got to the floor. Her knee throbbed, having likely been the first part of her anatomy to break her fall …or theirs really – as William was on top of her.

William, still on high alert, made no effort at all to move. "Are you alright?" he whispered.

"Yes, William. I'm fine," she quietly answered. So many thoughts flew through her mind. They could have been killed. Their children would have been orphaned. And the man she loved was safe, his body pressed into hers, caringly sheltering her from the storm.

George flew into the hallway. "Sir, doctor," he said, clearly startled with his eyes whipping from here to there searching for the men with all those guns.

William said calmly, "It's alright George. It was a booby-trap. There is no one else here." William lifted himself off of Julia and offered her a hand to help her stand.

She felt the difference in his attitude, accepting his help, but the memory of their being in the midst of an argument registered in her brain, leading her to say, in a cold, professional voice, "Thank you detective."

William chose not to respond at all to her, noticing that George noticed that something was not right with the usually amorous couple. Yes, they often used professional terms to refer to each other, but they usually did so with flirtation floating close to the surface.

"Do you think it is safe now sir?" George asked, suspiciously eying the body, the room, the blood, and the splintered, hole-filled walls.

"Probably," William responded, "But staying alert is recommended." The detective was the first one to enter the room. The constable followed. Once the detective gave the all-clear, the coroner joined them.

The body was beaten and slashed beyond recognition, the facial bones completely collapsed in and mingling with the brain tissue. The hands had been removed. Julia said, "The addition of … an enormous amount of blood to the scene makes it difficult right now to make a good guess as to the cause of death. The brutal beating could have killed her, obviously, but she could also have already been dead before the body was battered." Julia stepped back and seemed to examine the body as a whole. She said, "She looks familiar to me in some way – Her frizzy red hair, and her small, frail frame. Do you recognize her?"

The detective took a deep breath and took in the features she had mentioned, then answered, "No, nothing specific enough that I can chase it down… But there's a good chance we've met her; possibly even arrested and charged her."

Julia looked sideways at him and asked, "Oh, why is that?"

"The killer removed her hands – He probably didn't want us to be able to use fingermarks to identify her," he answered.

"Of course," Julia agreed.

William had listened intently to her, but now left her to continue her work. He inspected the walls, trying to ascertain the mechanism that was set up to deliver such a massive barrage of bullets at the intended victim, or victims. He had uncomfortably already figured that the killer meant to kill him, or Julia, or both of them. Each side of the room was fitted with a row of nine guns. They were mounted on a long board and hidden behind a cover that was painted to appear to be books. Through the row of triggers, there was a long, flat metal rod that flipped over when the tripwire tightened, pulling the triggers and initiating the rounds of fire. The guns themselves appeared to have a spring that worked to re-cock them between each shot, allowing each gun to fire repeatedly for six times. In a matter of seconds, 108 bullets had blown across the room at just the right height to kill a person who was about average height. " _Julia could still be the intended target, or one of them, as she was taller than most women_ " he thought.

Julia lifted her head to see that William had tilted his head to the side in that way he does when he sees things in his mind. " _He's got something_ ," she thought. "What is it Wi… detective?" she asked, choosing not to use his given name due to the current state of their relationship.

"The plans of the dirigible … I believe these guns were designed to be placed under the bottom of the dirigible, arming it. I think that this crime is linked to the others," he answered. He continued, "And I think that we might be on the target list as well."

Julia stood up, urgency in her stance, and said, "The children … Do you think they are safe?"

The detective answered, "I'll have an armed constable placed at our door."

"Yes," she said, the shock wearing off and the horror of the situation beginning to sink in.

The detective instructed George to find a phone and have an armed constable placed at their door immediately. He also told him to have someone from the stationhouse call his home and inform the housekeeper and the nanny that a constable was coming, for them to keep the children inside.

Before Julia headed back to the morgue with the body, they stood together for an uncomfortable pause. William battled between wanting to comfort her and holding steadfast to his anger at her. In the end he chose for neither, sticking to their professional roles. Somewhat aloofly he said, "Please let me know if you find anything significant doctor." He regretted his choice, for afterwards she stood before him, mouth opened, looking as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She'd managed to nod and then turn and go. Rubbing his forehead as he returned to George, conflicting emotions raged within him. He re-focused on his work with a sigh. He wanted the entire gun-firing mechanism brought back to the station. He would look for fingermarks and other clues from there. After checking the area for witnesses, and finding none, the detective and George headed back to the stationhouse.

Once William arrived he was called into the Inspector's office to meet the new detective in training, Detective Dorian Gulliver. He was a handsome young man, tall with red hair. He spoke with a strange accent; William figured it was due to the part of the USA he came from. The three men went to William's office and he used the blackboard to fill Detective Gulliver in on the crimes and what they knew so far. The Inspector also wanted to hear the recap: Flate was found dead first. He died as a result of an accident during a failed experiment testing a weapon on a small boat. He was an inventor who worked for the Aasen Corporation of America. Next, there was a man killed by a shot to the head, a Mr. Lynch. This man's body had been rigged with a poison intended to kill the coroner who performed the post-mortem, and sadly, Dr. Reynolds died as a result. Both Flate and Lynch had cotton fibers on their clothing and black ink on the bottoms of their shoes. Some plans for various weapons technologies were found in Flate's room, some of which match with two other recent crimes, the bombing of the Inspector's house and now the gunfire-trap that he and Dr. Ogden had just survived. This last crime involved the body of a woman who was so badly beaten they would likely not be able to identify her, but Dr. Ogden was performing the post-mortem now, and she was known to get phenomenal results. Finally, there is man who runs an illegal weapons business, with the first name of Connor, who may have abducted an American spy named Jane, and may be linked to the others by having black ink on the bottom of his shoes as well. He also may have visited a woman in prison a week or so ago.

Detective Murdoch asked Constable Clark how he had faired with searching the records of boats arriving from Ireland four years ago, for anyone with a first name of 'Connor.' The list of names was growing to be quite large as it seems that people, be they male or female, adult or child, commonly signed using only a first initial. There were hundreds of 'C's, and if they wanted to look into boats arriving 3 years ago or five years ago, it would triple the size of the list. Murdoch asked him to cross-reference their list from the boats with the list of people visiting women in the Don Jail over the past month. He also asked the constable to have someone retrieve the remains of what was collected and incinerated after the removal of the poisons from Mr. Lynch, informing him he was particularly interested in finding any of the man's buttons. He told him to have it delivered to the morgue to be sifted.

Murdoch explained to Gulliver that there was a shortage of constables to help with cases because many of them were standing guard, watching various neighborhoods for the approach of a dirigible, planning to warn people of the danger should the craft be sighted. Further, one man was stationed at Murdoch's house to protect his children now that an attempt had been made on his life this morning. He suggested that they go to look for Lynch's girlfriend, who reportedly worked in a restaurant near Victoria Park, themselves. He was hoping to get back quickly and work on checking for evidence on the gun-firing apparatus used for trap this morning's. The constables were still collecting it from the scene, so it seemed like a good time to do some fieldwork.

On the ride to Victoria Park, the two men got to know each other, but of course, as one of them was Detective Murdoch, they would mostly do this through discussing the case, or cases, he still was not certain. Detective Gulliver asked Murdoch if he had sent constables out to ask businesses that supply materials needed to make a bomb, like nitrogen-based compounds, who they are supplying. Murdoch thought it was a good idea and decided to put it on the over-full constable to-do list. The conversation died down and each man fell into their own thoughts. William's mind drifted to his argument with Julia. He saw her, heard her in his mind's eye – Her voice sharp with exasperation, demanding, " _I can't make a mistake, huh William. I have to be perfect or I don't love you. Is that how it is? Well, that's too much pressure._ " He sighed, a low, deep, despair-soaked sigh.

Gulliver noticed Murdoch fiddling with his wedding ring. He asked, "Are you married detective," with eyes fixed on the ring.

William turned to meet Gulliver's eyes briefly, trying to hide his annoyance at the question, he replied, "Yes." Thinking he didn't want to talk about it, he asked, "And you?"

"Oh no. No sir, I'm not married. Don't think I ever will be… I prefer to be free to get to know as many girls as I would like. Nope, I don't want to be trapped… Um, not to say that you are trapped sir," the young detective responded.

"Great," William thought, "A real ladies man."

As they sat in silence for the next few moments before the carriage pulled up at the first restaurant they planned to try, Detective Gulliver thought, " _But you surely are … trapped Detective Murdoch, not just a wife, but kids too_. _What a living hell that must be._ " (Murdoch wouldn't agree, but right now it would have been harder to see the bright side). They exited the carriage and began their search for Lynch's girlfriend.

Back at the stationhouse, after finding that William was not in his office, Julia stopped in to talk with the Inspector. She told him of her inkling that the dead victim on her morgue slab was none other than Felicity Dawes. She had needed to remind the Inspector that she was the woman Detective Murdoch most suspected of killing her fiancée with a pitchfork so many years earlier. The Inspector remembered the case and, with the help of Constable Crabtree, they determined that her fiancé at the time had been a man named Carl Rodriguez, and that the actual killer had been Isabel Webster. The Inspector had Crabtree start to search for the whereabouts of Dawes and Rodriguez. Julia thought that the trail would run dry quickly as she remembered that the couple had planned to move to Rodriguez's home country, Spain she thought. He also asked for Crabtree to determine whether or not Isabel Webster had been hung, and if not, then to find her current location.

As Julia turned to go, the Inspector said, "Oh, and doctor, I wanted to thank you again for your advice about the hotel."

Julia ducked her head and a puzzled look grew on her face, "Well of course Inspector, but whatever for?" she asked.

Now it was the Inspector who looked confused. "Didn't your husband tell you?" he wondered. Julia shook her head 'no.' "Oh … Well perhaps you didn't know then … That it was thanks to your advice about a romantic 'lunch," he said with a wink, "That Margaret and I are still alive."

Looking somewhat dazed, surprised that William hadn't told her about this, she replied, "Oh I see. Well then I'm certainly glad you thought it was a good idea."

It was the Inspector who wondered out loud, "I wonder why Murdoch didn't tell you?"

Of course, Julia knew the answer. William had come home to find she had invited Harry into their home, and then of course, they'd had the huge fight. She sighed, "I guess he had a lot on his mind," she answered, realizing as she heard herself that it revealed more of the strain she felt than she had hoped.

The Inspector's look betrayed that he had seen it too. He said, "Doctor, is everything alright … with you two?"

"Yes of course," Julia denied. "It's just that there are so many things coming at us from all sides, and we haven't really had a chance to …"

"Yes. I see. With Margaret and me too," he changed the subject.

"Oh my, I've been so distracted by the … attack on us this morning and everything, I forgot to ask. How is Margaret fairing?"

The Inspector walked over and poured himself a scotch. He offered her one. Oh how she wanted to take him up on his offer, but decided it would be for the best for her to decline. She had quite a bit of work still to complete on the post-mortem. He took a seat at his desk and said, "Margaret's a tough old bird... Really an amazing woman. We'll be alright. Thanks for asking."

Julia entertained telling him that they could stay in their guest suite. (William had designed a quarters for a live-in maid that now served as a guest suite because they decided to hire Eloise, who lived in her own home, instead). She had learned her lesson, however. She would consult with William before extending the offer. "You are very welcome Inspector," she said and then she took her leave.

Having had no luck finding Lynch's girlfriend, the two detectives rode back to the station with Murdoch using the time to inform Gulliver of as many pertinent facts to the case as possible. Once back at the station, the Inspector filled them in on Dr. Ogden's suspicions that the victim found this morning was Felicity Dawes.

Murdoch thought about the possibilities. He agreed the frizzy, red hair on the victim did appear to be to be similar to that of Miss Dawes, and her small, frail build as well. "And we would have her fingermarks on file, explaining why the killer cut off her hands," he said. It certainly seems possible. "Didn't Miss Dawes' caretaker confess to the murder?" he asked.

"Yes," the Inspector said. "A Miss Isabel Webster, but Crabtree found that she is still in prison at the Don Jail, serving a life sentence," he added.

William's mind flashed through some of the connections between the cases, imagining finding the black footprints in the visiting area of the Don Jail. " _Perhaps Connor was visiting Miss Webster?_ " he thought. "Well, that might provide a connection between the illegal weapons business and this man Connor," he said, wrinkling his face in doubt, "Although it is a weak one." Being reminded of Connor, he asked, "Has Mr. Clegg been around. I would have thought he'd be all over me about trying to find his spy, Jane?"

"Not hide or hair of him," the Inspector replied.

"Hmm," William thought aloud. "Well, let's see if the constables find anything on Miss Dawes' whereabouts," he said. Then he went to his office to share some of his evidence-gathering techniques with the new detective in training as he examined the gun-firing apparatus. They came up empty again, concluding the murderer was a professional who knew how to avoid leaving evidence.

After their long and exciting day, Julia returned home before William. She played with the children in the downstairs playroom as time for dinner neared. Upon arriving home, William sent the constable guarding their house away, asking him to send the next constable at ten o'clock. The detective would keep an ear out until then. Once he closed the door he heard the children downstairs call out "Daddy!"– Then run upstairs to greet him. Julia followed, stopping to lean her shoulder up against the foyer wall as she watched the loving scene. There were hugs and kisses and some excited stories about playing with the neighbors, even though Claire-Marie made them play inside. William Jr. asked his father if they could build a tree-house. William thought it was a great idea. He looked up at Julia, prompting the children to turn and look at her as well.

"Are you still in a fight with Mommy?" Katie asked looking back at her father.

William lowered his gaze to meet the hopeful child, with the corner of his mouth wrinkled-up, offering an apology, he said, "Yes, we still are."

Julia crossed her arms in front of her and turned to leave the room, disappointed. William sighed.

Over dinner, William told the children he wanted to talk with their Mommy – to try to work things out. He asked if they could entertain themselves for a while, letting their parents have some time to talk. He teasingly suggested that William Jr. could read Cinderella to his little sisters, riling moaning and complaining from the boy, and sending all others into laughter. Julia suggested they choose another story from the books that were easier to read; one they hadn't read for a while. As the children read and played in the living-room, their mother and father sat together on the bench on the porch, talking. The children knew they could peek out the front window and see their parents, and they did so every so often while the adults talked.

Julia had very much wanted a glass of wine – It had been a stressful day, and this talk they were about to have promised to be challenging as well. She decided to abstain, as at least part of the problem was Harry's drinking. They sat as far apart on the bench as possible, William resting an elbow on the arm on one side of the bench, Julia sitting sideways, arm resting on the back of the bench, with her knees pulled up sideways in front of her and her back pressed against the other arm of the bench. She absolutely refused to speak first, thus she sat, waiting.

William rubbed his forehead, eyes fixed forward on the porch floor, and he began, "When you comforted William Jr., when he was crying in your arms the night you returned home…" William paused, wanting reassurance that she was with him.

"Yes," she said. The memory was very potent.

"You were able to help him identify his feelings," he continued.

"Yes," she agreed.

"As a boy, I didn't have that… At least not after my mother died… I think, when she was alive, she was able to help me in a similar way to … understand my emotions. I guess that getting that from her, well it could have served as a kind of foundation … But …" William paused and took a deep breath, "Well, you already know, I can't talk very well about my feelings."

Julia nodded, thinking, " _To say the very least._ "

He sensed her judgment and said, "It's not that a I am intentionally keeping them from you – Not like I am completely aware of them but choose to hide them away – to keep them secret on purpose," he tried to explain. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her nod. He went on, "It feels that they are hidden from _**me**_ …" He turned slightly, his sideways glance quickly catching her eye. She detected the slightest smile on his face, perhaps he was happy with the feeling of being connected to her once again.

William sighed, took a deep breath, pushed himself to dig deeper, to risk exposing himself. His fingers found his brow once again; he tried to rub away the stress. His voice sounded far off when he said, "I am lost … have gotten somehow lost, in my emotions right now…" He sighed again; this next part was the hardest. He said, "I could use help finding my way out." Still, Julia just waited. Finally, he asked, "Do you think you could help?"

"Yes, yes I do," she answered slowly. Julia thought for a moment, calling up her psychiatry training. She asked him, "Can you identify any of the feelings you are experiencing William?" She saw him try.

He changed the focus of his eyes, still aimed at the floor, but with wider pupils, searching for clues in the dark, looking inside. "I feel alone … and a little scared," he said.

"And angry?" Julia asked.

"Yes, a little," he replied.

Back in the living-room, Katie asked William Jr. to wait. He stopped reading and watched as she cautiously snuck up to the living-room window and slowly, minimally, pushed an edge of the curtain aside.

"Are they kissing?" William Jr. asked.

"No," she answered sadly, "Still just talking." She returned to sit next to Chelsea and her big brother continued on reading from the book.

Julia shifted her position on the bench, pulling her legs up higher onto it. Her voice confidently and warmly explained, "William, emotions are accompanied by thoughts. And you have an excellent memory. If you can remember your thoughts, well then we can use them to get to the emotions." She waited for a moment.

William tried to find a thought, but it seemed all he had in his head was a swirly mess. With confusion, and possibly some defeat in his voice, he said, "But … I don't have any thoughts."

Julia responded, "That is because you feel like you are under a microscope right now. And you have your defenses up."

Seeing no reason to deny it, he wrinkled up a corner of his mouth and agreed, "Yes, I suppose that's true."

Julia's heart soared, filling with the warm, glowing feeling that brought her such delight. She so loved this man. The slightest gasp escaped from her chest as the strong reaction seemed to envelope her, them.

Once again, his eyes drifted to the side to find her as a smile grew on his face, "See, you can do it. You do know what I'm feeling," he said.

Julia ducked her chin down a little, trying to hold his eye, and replied, "Sometimes … possibly, but what we really need to do is more to see if _**you**_ can remember __the thoughts that you had when your emotions were not so controlled, like they are right now." Still holding her eye, turning his shoulders towards her, he nodded. She started, "What were you thinking when you slammed the door and walked down the path?"

A glimpse of discomfort, perhaps even fear, passed over his face; He quickly looked away, finding the floor again. Flashes of memory sparked through him – William Jr.'s shocked, hurt face _**accusing him**_ _as he said_ , "But Dad, we really liked him?"; Seeing Harry walk up **behind** Julia, already in his house, _**his**_ house; Slamming the door, surprised by the loudness of the 'bang' and thinking, " _Who does she_ _ **Goddamn**_ _think she is!_ " Then remembering slamming the gate behind him as well, " _Of course,_ _ **Julia's**_ _always right – she's always the one who's right!… And now it's_ _ **me**_ _who looks unreasonable!_ " running through his mind, fists curled, jaw clenched. For the briefest second he tried to imagine saying these things to her. Every cell in his body recoiled. He sighed deeply and said, "Julia, I was very angry … I don't think I want to find those thoughts."

" _He probably doubts he could say them to me without hurting me,_ " she figured. "William," she encouraged, "I know that when someone is angry, they think things that … can be very severe, extreme. And it's important to understand that such thoughts are temporary – they do not imply that that is how a person feels … permanently. They are reactions, simply normal reactions – usually to being … to feeling, hurt." She took a deep breath. " _Perhaps it would be better to start with an emotion that may be more acceptable to him than his anger; It was_ _ **me**_ _who said 'angry anyway,"_ she thought. " _He said earlier that he felt 'alone' and 'scared.' …One of those then – alone,_ " she strategized. After taking a moment to remember how it felt to feel alone, she asked, the idea seeming to pop up from somewhere deep inside of her, "Did you ever cry William… when you were out walking… **alone**?"

Somewhat reluctant to answer, as crying is unmanly and weak, he coached himself that honesty always works best in these heart-to-heart talks with Julia. "Yes," he answered plainly.

" _I think this will work!"_ she thought, " _We'll need to find a way to specifically trigger a memory …connect it to something else he will remember._ " She asked him, "Can you remember where you were at the time … The park, King Street?" Giving him time to search, she paused.

He remembered it clearly. The rain had already drenched him through and through. Soaked, tired, hungry, and on the verge of sobbing, the taste of his tears dampened by the rainwater on his face, he walked up the hill of the path in the park, and came upon the place where they had shared their first kiss. Memories of that time, truly one of the best in his life, flowed through his mind, providing the fire that, deep within him, mixed with the painful emotions that pushed his current tears, surrounding him in a steaming cloud of confusion and turmoil. He fell to his knees, trying with all his might to hold his breath, knowing that upon breathing out, air would flow over the glowing coals in his heart, raising the heat, increasing the pain.

She could tell when he had found the memory – he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Stay with it William," she advised.

Troubled by the emotions he felt, sensing he would get choked up, he struggled with the conflict of wanting to fix the problem and wanting to avoid the aversion he felt bubbling up from deep inside of himself.

Julia pushed him to stay with the thought more than the emotion, she asked, "Where were you?"

With the raggedy shaking of the deep breath he took, she knew he was feeling pain. "I was in the park," William said, "on the path near where we had our picnic, with the absinthe."

"What were you thinking?" she pressed, leaning forward, intrigued and focused on the hunt.

William's forehead wrinkled in pain as he held his breath trying to avoid feeling it. He quickly reached up to his cheek, wiping away a tear. He remembered thinking, " _She wouldn't have done that if she loved me; She can't love me; she never could have loved me_." He glanced over at her, then away again before he said it out loud, with his voice strained, "I thought, " **She wouldn't have done that if she loved me;** **she can't love me, she never could have loved me.** " He gave in to the need to breath, shakily sucking in air. Determined to get it out, he pushed on, "It felt like it had all been a mirage; that I had somehow tricked myself into believing it – a fool to believe I had ever been loved… And now I saw it, saw the truth – That I was alone; that I would always be completely alone." His crying intensified as he remembered what he had thought, what he had felt, reigniting the feelings within him once more.

"You felt unloved and unlovable," Julia's tender voice asked, prompting William to quietly tremble as his crying fell into soft sobs. He nodded and then leaned forward, crossing his arms in an effort to comfort himself with a hug.

Her training told her not to go to him, not to take him in her arms, not to kiss away his tears, not to hold him tight and rock with him. She stiffened slightly as she forced herself to stay back.

Back in the living-room, William Jr. finished the book he was reading to his sisters. This time it was he who went to the window to see if their parents were better yet. "Still not kissing," he whispered the report. He sighed and carefully returned the curtain to its place. He turned to them, his face showing worry and doubt like his father's does, by wrinkling at one side of the mouth. He quietly said, "It looks like Dad is crying." The little girls looked at each other as concern grew.

"Do you think Mommy said something bad to him?" Chelsea asked.

"Maybe," William Jr. replied. "I don't really know," he concluded. He took a deep breath and looked around. "What do you want to do now?" he asked.

Julia moved an inch closer to him, allowing her to speak even more softly when she said, "This is really important William … Do you remember any other time in your life that you felt this way?" Now she had to wait.

He went through the motions of running things through his mind, but he already knew the answer. Perhaps he was looking for something else to say that would not be as … devastating. As he opened his mouth to share the discovery with her, he was surprised to feel a glimmer of hope, a sort of wonder and awe, as if he'd found something very important. He sat up straighter to begin, "Yes. When I ran away, right after my mother's funeral, when my Dad told us …" A thought pumped through his mind, " _Oh my God it hurt so much…_ " William thought as the ache, the agony, of the memory took hold of him, pulled him down to curl lower in his seat. He forced himself to breath, the sound of his tattered, desperate breath tugging strongly at Julia's heart strings, drawing a tear to her eye. He pushed to continue, "He said he was leaving … He was sending us away…" William wiped away more tears with the back of his hand and went on, "I ended up down by the lakeside where I'd found my mother's body. I thought, " **I will never be loved again, I've lost everything…a motherless child, completely alone."** I remember that I ran into the water and dropped to my knees in the exact spot, and I cried harder than I'd ever cried in my life. After a time, the sadness withdrew. My thoughts turned to my father. I thought, " **He never loved me – just throwing me away. There must be something wrong with me – nothing but trash – a child only a mother could love'…"** he said, seeming to crumple, " **And now she was gone …** "

Julia stayed with him, knowing he would need to cry a while; she would be there, strong and alert to watch over him at his weakest moment. Gradually the emotions passed, the tears stopped. William took a big breath, the shakiness was gone. He felt stronger, better.

Julia slid over to sit next to him now on the bench. "Having your father here, with the children, feeling betrayed by my having let him in," she tenderly explained, "all of those things were exasperated by the fact that I had been in prison, possibly for years, and your identification with William Jr., now the same age you were when your mother died … and this convergence of factors triggered your memories of that time … that time in your life that you felt similarly, unloved and unlovable … _**alone**_." She gave in to her urge to touch him, wiping his cheek, drying a tear. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, loved him so much that it hurt, but the words would ring untrue until he felt it himself.

He saw the tears in her eyes, showing him the way back to her. " _She does know me. She does care about me… She does love me,_ " he realized, remembered, saw clearly, with joy. He threw his arms around her, hugged her as if the world were collapsing around them. She kissed his ear, held him with all her might. Julia took a deep breath, the sound registering in his ear. They were going to be alright.

Katie looked out the window again. She turned to her brother and sister excitedly. "They are hugging!" she exclaimed in a whisper. They ran to the window wanting to see the good news for themselves.

"Yes!" William Jr. happily said. The children embraced and soundlessly hopped up and down together.

William pulled back from their embrace and looked Julia in the eye. She was so pleased, he looked happy, at ease. Elatedly he said, "You are amazing Julia! An amazing woman, not only a top-notch pathologist, but a psychiatrist too. I feel so much better. Thank you!"

She bowed to him slightly, "Good … And you are very welcome William," she said, her smile gleaming on her face. He took her head in his hands and kissed her, bliss floating in his heart. He felt her love for him, and when it mixed with his for her, the resulting flames were astonishing.

"Their kissing!" a little child voice joyfully whispered.

Julia broke off their kiss, dropping her chin down. She slid both hands up his stomach, then to ripple across his chest muscles and settle in on his tie. She could feel his eyes on her, feel his breathing change, growing hotter and stronger as it flowed over her face. Her index finger tucked into the gap of cloth at the top of the tie, firmly loosening it. Eyes remaining low, focused on her task, she said, "You look like you're still in your office." It was there, that magnetic, burning force between them, building the tension, calling their souls to warm alertness. A gentle breeze blew over them, enhancing some of Julia's untethered curls. His tie now loose, she pinched the first, and then the second buttons, freeing his skin to feel the caress of her breath. Still avoiding his eyes, with her voice low and raspy, she asked, "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Mm-hmm," he answered. William took one of her tantalizing curls in his fingers and said, "After I feel the strands of your hair slide past each other and listen for the crinkly sounds they make as they catch." His fingers lifted her chin. Their eyes meeting as she felt his hand touch her cheek, his thumb slide under and capture a fallen tear. His breath once more gently cascaded over her face as he asked, "You cried for me?"

"Yes," she answered, breathless. (Well-trained in psychological practice, Julia had been trained not to cry. She would eventually decide that it was alright that she had done so, for she is his wife, not his therapist. Although, she was not thinking about this now, she would reflect on it later in length. Now she was caught in his spell, her thoughts consumed by him and how she was reacting to him – to that delicious flutter inside of her).

Their eyes sparkled in the twilight as they danced in exploration of each other. She felt the slippery liquid of her tear smear across her lower lip as William's thumb marked the spot to receive his gaze, causing the pink skin to glisten in the dusk hues. His voice husky, the mere sound of its tone vibrating deep inside her brain, sending it into a slow, swirling spin, he said, "Now, I'm going to kiss you, although I must wait until I hear you breathe; it will be long." He tilted his head, decreased the distance between their lips, surging the powerful draw she felt pulling her to him.

Her breath had been taken. It was not until the thrill she felt as the fingers of his other hand pressed against her lower back, and began blooming upward, that she gasped. He pulled her to him, " _So soft_ ," she thought when their lips finally touched. His tongue teased her lips open, pressed in, the motion slow, but perpetually growing deeper. She moaned, basking him in her warm breath as the air escaped from her nostrils. Feeling dizzy, she reached for him, tempting him to moan as her fingers slid into his hair, her nails delightfully scratching across his scalp. Her mind rushed forward, imagination painting her view. He would lie on top of her, push inside of her, deeper and deeper inside of her. His rhythm would pump up into her, the beating pressure pushing her higher and higher, as if riding a swing, to that one place that only he could, to the place so high, so silent, the place where she could tilt ever so slightly and feel her insides flip over as gravity shifted, as she would floatingly fall over the edge into the ecstasy of their love. Julia's womb tightened deliciously in response. Oh, how she wished this kiss would never end. But she felt his tongue slide back, she felt the weight of his kiss lighten as he pulled back, only the skin of their lips sticking together before the stretch was too much, and her lips were free.

Space opened between them, giving room for Julia to slide her hands down across his shoulders, and trace the edge of his shirt collar, to find the third button. She popped it open and said, barely above a whisper, "Welcome home detective." William's heart soared with the longed-for embrace of her words.

The couple closed the front door behind them to be greeted by their children. "You're not fighting anymore," Katie called out, glee and excitement in her voice.

"No … We're not," Julia said. "How did you know?" she asked.

Chelsea bubbled, "We saw you kissing in the window!"

"You did, did you," her mother responded, her playful scolding prompting the child to quickly shake her head up and down while placing her stuffed bear's ear in her mouth.

Katie asked, "Will we be able to visit with Grandpa now?" William and Julia looked at each other. They had not actually discussed it. Julia turned back to look at Katie and said, as she squatted down closer to the child, "No sweetie …"

William Jr. threw his book to the floor with a startling 'slap.' He turned and ran into the living-room. The parents shared a look of concern.

"I'll take the girls into the kitchen," Julia said to William. Turning to look at the girls she said, "We'll make the hot chocolate." The two little ones hurried to take her hands.

William sighed and ducked his chin. He prepared for his talk with his son, then headed into the living-room. William Jr. sat on one of the couches, head staring down at the floor. William took a seat directly in front of him on the living-room table, providing closeness, the low height of the table nearly lining them up so their eyes could meet. William said, "Son, I know you came to like your grandfather very much…"

William Jr. interrupted, lifting his head to connect sight with his father, anger and disappointment on his face and said, "And he liked me!"

"Of course he did. And he won't stop liking you because I keep him away… But I have to keep him away," William explained.

William Jr.'s face softened, anger replaced with grief. "But why Daddy?" he asked.

William sighed. It would be hard, very hard to explain. "Because I don't trust him, son. Your grandfather doesn't mean to, but he hurts people. He does things … He gets drunk, and then he does things he shouldn't… And, William, I love you too much to let him hurt you." He lowered his head, his look asking his son if he understood.

The boy took a deep breath and pushed, "You always say that it's not his mistakes that make a man, but what he does to fix them that does… But you won't let him show if he fixed them."

William sighed again, giving in to the tension; he reached up and rubbed his forehead. He said, "Son, it's true a man could always change … And I suppose your grandfather could change too. But I can't, and I won't, blindly trust that he has. I cannot assume he has fixed his mistakes, changed his ways – He will have to _**prove**_ he's changed, prove he's fixed his mistakes _**before**_ I can trust him. It can't be done the other way around. I can't trust him and then find out if he's changed… Do you see?"

William Jr. dropped his chin. It hurt, but he did understand. He nodded his head and then sadly said, "Yes Daddy."

William took the boy in his arms, lifting him as he stood up, and pulled him into a hug. "Good," he said before he growled like a bear and squeezed his son tight. He slid the boy to the side under one arm and placed him on his back, with his son's arms wrapped around his Daddy's neck to ride 'piggy-back.' "Let's go see what's taking so long with that hot chocolate!" he declared, and then they playfully 'galloped' into the kitchen.

The family sat in the living-room while Julia read " _The Mystery of Dr. Fu Manchu_ " to the children, the two older children at her sides on the couch; Chelsea sat in her father's lap on the reclining chair. As she read, she marveled at the irony that they were reading a story that centered around a master poisoner, considering her recent events dealing with poisons. Just under her consciousness lay the fear she felt having had herself and William nearly die today. In the wake of such a close call, Manchu's narrow escapes from impending doom were potent. She finished the very end of the story, Manchu seems to make it out of a deadly inferno alive, and closed the book.

Chelsea whispered, "Mommy, Daddy's sleeping."

Julia soaked in the sight; it was truly heart-warming. William's eyes closed, his long lashes adding to his beauty, he had wrapped his arm lovingly around the little child. Chelsea kept her head on her father's chest, not wanting to move, not wanting to wake him.

Julia whispered back, "Your Daddy had a long, tiring day…" She stood up and walked over to stand above them, reaching her arms down to take her daughter, she whispered, "Come here sweet pea." Chelsea in her arms, Julia took the children upstairs and got them into bed.

Later, as William still slept in the chair, she finally had her glass of wine. She sat with him for a while, reading a medical journal. Eventually he stirred.

"Mm," he moaned as he stretched, "I fell asleep."

Julia put her journal down, stood and walked over to him, reached out a hand and said, "Let's get you to bed Mr. Murdoch."

He shifted to make room for her and said, as he pulled her down to him, "Sit with me for a while Mrs. Murdoch."

Finding him irresistible, she acquiesced. She settled in, siting more next to him than on him, with her legs over his, resting her head down on his shoulder. With a sigh she said, "You are obviously very tired William, the last couple of days you've had very little sleep… And there is so much pressure on you – on us now. It's important to get some sleep, hmm?"

"Sounds wise," he replied. And yet, now comfortable, neither of them moved. He wanted to talk about the case, but paused to see if she brought up anything else that she wanted to talk about.

"How did your talk with William Jr. go?" she asked.

William took her hand, played with her wedding rings, and said, "Our son is quite a remarkable young man Julia. He argued his case well and understood why I needed to stick to my plan to keep Harry away from him – at least for now." He felt her nod against his body.

Julia moved her hand from under his and then slid it up his body to further loosen his tie. She said, "So, we are in agreement about keeping the children away from Harry …"

"Mm," he agreed.

His tie undone, she moved on to his shirt buttons, continuing she said, "And also about not giving him any money?"

William's hand tenderly massaged her knee, discovering the swollen injury from when he dropped her to the floor during the gunfire earlier today. He softly traced the outer boundaries of the wound. He turned to kiss her hair and said, "That's what I would prefer."

"Then that's what we will do," she said, giving him a squeeze. His shirt unbuttoned, she slid her hand under it to scratch and rub his chest muscles through his under shirt. He was sweaty, of course she was too; it was abnormally hot, even for August.

William's caressing of the bruise on her knee reminded Julia of the fact that they had nearly been killed earlier. She thought of the dirigible that could fly overhead and drop a bomb on them, or perhaps someone could slip poison into their food. She remembered that there would be a constable at their door twenty-four hours a day, although William had sent him away for a while, one would be returning soon. She tried to be strong, tried to deny it, but she was scared. Julia slid her hand out from under his shirt and covered William's hand with it. She asked, "Do you think we are safe?"

She felt his other hand move up to sweep her hair back and glide his fingers soothingly over her ear. He took his time to answer her, playing possible scenarios out in his mind first. He wanted with all of his heart to be able to reassure her, but he knew she would sense his insincerity. He released a big sigh, she already knew as a result of it that he was going to confirm her fears, and he said, "No, no I don't." She tried with all her might not to flinch, not to tense up and make him regret answering honestly. He took a deep breath and quickly tried to make the situation more tolerable, adding, "But we have taken some precautions now that we are aware of the danger … The Inspector has been very supportive about allowing us to have protection from the constables …"

Julia sat up and caught his eye, "Perhaps we should all flee to the lake-house," she suggested.

"I see the temptation to run away, Julia," he replied, "but we need to rely not only on defense – we very much need a strong offense as well. We must relentlessly pursue whoever is creating the threat."

Trusting William more than anyone else in the world, she accepted his point. Her eyes dropped as she tried to find solace in this very trust. A moment later, she lifted her eyes to meet his again and asked, "Then do you think we should enact our emergency plan for the children's safety. (After they had come into possession of the lake-house, the couple had formulated an emergency plan – the children, along with Claire-Marie to help look after them, would be sent to the lake-house housekeeper's home, just up the hill from the lake-house. They had figured that the lake-house itself could not serve as a sanctuary, for their ownership of it could be detected, but it would be very unlikely that someone would suspect the children had been holed-up at Judith's home).

William cupped her cheek. "Yes," he concurred, "the constable at the door may not be enough."

"And William, what about the back door?" Julia asked, with a tone of immediacy and worry detectable in her voice.

Nodding, he answered, "Mm-hmm, it needs to be better secured, and it may need some sort of an alarm as well. I'll work on it before I go to bed."

Feeling more settled, more in control, she planned for the next day, "I'll call Judith tomorrow to make sure she is still good with our agreement and able to take the children now and I'll talk to Claire-Marie."

"We can use the constabulary carriage so no one can determine where we have sent them. They should go in the midnight hours," William continued. They agreed not to tell the children until the plans were all worked out.

Julia rested her head back down on his shoulder and ran her fingers back and forth across his chest. "Do you think it's Eva Pearce?" she asked.

"It could be, but if you are right about the victim of today's ambush being Felicity Dawes then it is less likely. Although that brings up other problems, because Isabel Webster is really the only person with motive to kill her and to kill you, or possibly us, and she is in prison, I checked" William replied.

Julia sighed and said, "After what happened with James Gillies, I am doubtful about such reassurances. Could we check?"

William nodded, "I'll check into it tomorrow. There could be more than one perpetrator, or more than one plot. It's hard to tell … But it does seem that there are connections between all the crimes." William wrinkled his face showing his uncertainty and doubt, "The whole weapons thing seems more like it would be Sally Pendrick, or rather Sally Hubbard, who would be involved in it," he thought aloud with a sigh.

Julia lifted her head and kissed his neck, wanting to stir some romance, but she was deterred by the slippery, salty taste of his sweat-laden skin. "You need a shower detective," she whispered, using her finger to turn him to face her and then giving him a kiss on his lips. She took a deep breath and said with an alluring voice, "Me too… Shall we take one together?"

William wrinkled his face in apology and answered, "I think I'm too tired for that tonight."

She smiled comfortingly and said "Yes." William suggested that she take shower now while he fixed the backdoor and then he would take his shower after her.

William arrived upstairs a while later to find her clean and succulently naked, bent over the sink brushing her teeth. Seeing him pause at the door, Julia arched her back, wanting to further send him over the edge of desire. Her efforts were quite successful. The sight nearly brought him to his knees. Neither of them spoke, nor did their eyes meet. But their breathing was stunned, their lustful feelings stimulated. William moved to lean against the other wall, benefitting from an even better view of her enticing derrière, finding himself feeling dizzy and light-headed as he could now see the luscious pink treasure between the curvy cheeks of her buttocks. Julia remained in the seductive position even though she was finished brushing her teeth. Playfully swaying her hips, sending jolts of electricity directly to his groin, she watched his response in the mirror and teased, "But I thought you were too tired, no?

Needing to clear his throat first he replied, "No. Um … Not anymore."

Julia smiled. She stood up and turned to him, reveling in the power she felt when their eyes met. As she approached to slide her arms around his neck, she said, "So you have gotten a second wind then?"

William cleared his throat again and answered, "Well, that may not be the best way to describe it, as you took my breath away, but yes, sort of."

They decided to shower together after all. It seemed that Julia was in charge tonight. She handed him the bar of soap and William soaped up the front of Julia's body, his fingers fiercely exploring every inch of her. She watched his eyes grow wide with want as his hands kneaded, squeezed, tortured her breasts, weakening her knees and sharpening the fitful tugs of lust deep within her. She stepped closer to him, stopping before their bodies touched, tantalizingly surging their anticipation. He'd given her control, and so he waited for her to complete the touch. All she did was lean and then lift herself up on her toes to ensure her slippery skin would lusciously slide along his. His moan flipped her insides over, nearly breaking her determination to drive her husband over the edge.

She found the bar of soap again and placed it in his hand. He soaped up his hands once more before Julia took the bar back and placed it in the holder. His sudsy, strong hands roughly took her backside with demand. She heard his breathing firing through his nostrils. She knew his resolve was about to burst. "I want you William," she whispered enticingly into his ear to be rewarded by a blast of his steamy breath beating over her eardrum, setting her brain into a spin.

Julia turned around, bending her knees and then straightening them to feel the rock-hard evidence of his longing for her slide down the small of her back to come to press solidly between the cheeks of her buttocks. William's moan was abandoned, his desire for her now the only thing he could see. Julia leaned forward to find the hard, cold tile wall of the shower with her breasts and pushed her buttocks backwards into him, forcing him to take a step backwards, his heels pressed up against the side of the tub. She was sufficiently bent forward now to have lifted what he most wanted to touch to be in line with him, thus his tip was surrounded by her warm, pink opening. She called out, "Please William." He bent forward over her lowering his shoulders, uniting the skin of his muscular chest to the soapy, smooth skin on her back. His fingers grasped her hips demandingly, rendering her helpless, bringing her to gasp. And then she felt it, forcing her to yield. He surged up into her, deeper and deeper, with a rhythm that drove her wild. She moaned, undoing him. He began to thrust powerfully inside of her, twisting and taunting her insides with uncontrollable need. Once she heard him grunt with effort, she knew he had lost control. "Hurry William," she said, urging him on, wanting more than anything in the world right now for him to feel the ultimate pleasure. Rushing to catch up with him, she firmly rubbed her fingers against the knot of her flesh directly above where he drove so forcefully into her. Another grunt, and then another, he was pumping wildly inside of her with every ounce of strength he head. "Please – Deeper," she cried, feeling herself teetering over the abyss. His thrusts strongly deepened, the rhythm slowing as the power grew. She fell. Her insides sweetened as the taught edges of her being let go, and William's strong breath mixed with a moan in her ear.

He softened his tight, commanding grip on her hips to slide his arms around her belly, hugging her as they recovered. His hand slid up her belly to press and rest between her breasts which had been pressed flat against the wall. He brought her with him as he straightened up. As he stood behind her, his mouth found her ear, "I love you," he whispered. He turned her around and the swayed together under the shower, rinsing away the soap, hearts slowing, content.

If William was tired before, he was beyond exhausted now – Happy, satiated, but thoroughly exhausted. They dried off and Julia led him to the bed to lie naked on the cool sheets in the hot, sultry, dark bedroom. "William Henry Murdoch, I love you with all my heart and soul. Sleep," she whispered to her lover, her husband, her soul-mate.

Julia put on her robe and went downstairs to greet Constable Morris who stood guard at the front door. She explained that the family commonly drinks hot chocolate even on such hot evenings and asked if he would like one. Enthusiastically he replied that he did. She brought him a cup along with a slice of Eloise's Chocolate cake.

She quietly slipped in through their bedroom door. After she took her robe off and crawled into bed next to William, she heard the distinctive deep breathing of his sleep before she rolled over and allowed herself to yield to sleep's call and join him.

In the Don Jail visiting room, Cecily McKinnon sat across from her youngest brother, Sean Brogan. She was furious that Isabel's second attempt to kill Ogden, and they had hoped Murdoch as well, had failed miserably. The time until the planned escape was rapidly approaching, and the Constabulary were far from out of the way. She ordered the Murdoch children to be kidnapped and used as bait to kill the parents. She also told Sean to figure out another way to kill the Inspector, now that their use of the dirigible was known, and thus rendered completely useless. In the case of Inspector Brackenreid, it was more than wanting him out of the way; she wanted revenge – She wanted him dead.

Awakened in the midst of a thunderstorm, Julia was startled to find that the emotions the storm stirred in her were not the usual ones of excitement and awe – of feeling the preciousness of the moment drawing her to William – surging their love, and lust, for each other. No. Now it was fear and dread. Flashes of memory bolted through her mind with each lightning strike. She saw William's tree exploding at the lake-house. Then his lifeless body floating in the flooded hull of the sinking ship. Next, the man's body, so similar in shape and style of dress to William's, lying face-down in the grass near his church when William had been missing for over a week. Suddenly, Eva Pearce's eerie voice threatened, "Once I get out I'll show you who's the deluded one," with the dark, dank walls of the asylum ward echoing the danger. And then, Rose swinging the bat, Gillies closing the coffin lid, Orville pulling out his glimmering knife!...

But then it happened, with the memory of Orville. She remembered the moment she let herself fall in love with William. Her heart slowed as it warmed. They sat at her desk in the morgue, he with her for support as she had performed Orville's autopsy the day after he had tried to gut her. The freezer unit had turned on, creating a sound that sent her into a flashback of the creak of the floorboard as Orville had approached. She froze with terror. William had noticed, understood what was happening. He had said with such calmness, such tenderness, "It was just the freezer unit turning on. You are safe… Now, what was it you were writing about the liver," then reaching over to point at the place on her report. He had grounded her in the safety of where she was. He had had compassion and empathy, knowing why she was scared, aware of what she was feeling. " **He knows how to take care of me,** " she had thought. Recognizing this had prompted her to let herself fall, to fall hopelessly head-over-heels in love with him. Now in the dark, only flickers of light from the storm so far off, she gazed upon that same man, so dedicated and loyal, so capable and charming. She only loved him more. She knew that with his care she would be alright. She heard William's voice in her head, "We need to rely not only on defense – we very much need a strong offense as well." She knew together they would handle what would come, she heard him tell her again, "Listen to me …Together we're stronger than anyone." She cuddled close to him and fell back into much needed sleep.

 _ **Thunder could be heard rumbling, growing, coming closer, seeming to originate from so many different directions. The wind was picking up, swirling up dust, making it hard to see, hard to hear. Lightning had already struck close by, leaving the alerting smell of ozone in the air. William and Julia were together now and could work as a team on both offense and defense. Yes, this makes them stronger than anyone, but what if their threat is from more than one person – What then?**_


	11. Chapter 11

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 11: Tuesday, August 12, 1913

At dawn a cold wind blew in through the window along with the warm, golden glow of low sunlight. The curtain danced and the shadows in the bedroom were long. The couple slept naked, lacking covers of any kind, spooned together. Julia stirred, and noticing the chill, rolled over on her back to give her husband a soft nudge. She said, with her voice sleepy and dry, "William, can you close the window?"

William seemed to be immediately alert, replying, "Mm-hmm," and then getting out of bed and doing what she had asked. Upon returning, he pulled up the bed-sheet and light blanket that had been flung to the floor in last night's balmy heat, nestling close to Julia as he blanketed them both. They both knew from the sunrise hues in the room that they had more time.

"Thank you William," she said as she pressed her back closer to him, softly sliding her cool skin across his.

He was in the mood for love, she for sleep. William decided they probably had time for both, and with a sigh, he stuck his pillow under his head and closed his eyes, asking for sleep to come. It did not. " _Perhaps the victim isn't Felicity Dawes,_ " he thought, " _But I agree with Julia, I think it probably is._ " Feeling stressed, he rolled over onto his back and reached up to massage his forehead, " _And why would a man running an illegal weapons business, like Connor, visit Dawes' murderer, Isabel Webster, in jail,_ " he asked himself, feeling his facial expression take on its typical wrinkle at the corner of his mouth, " _They could be related, or had a love affair_?" he thought. " _But Clegg said Connor was in a relationship with Jane … and where is Clegg, not mention Jane. Could Connor have killed her,_ " an eyebrow arched up, " _Maybe he killed Clegg too?"_ William pondered. The number of questions overpowering the possible answers, he sighed and shifted his position. He focused on remembering the other weapons in the plans he found at Flate's home – thinking of the time-delayed grenade set off by removing a pin, and then of the land-mine, the bomb being set when the button is pushed down, and then detonated once the pressure is removed. He worried that perhaps one of these weapons might be used in an attack on them next.

Next to him in their bed, Julia made a soft sound. Her body twitched slightly. She was dreaming.

In her minds-eye Julia was making love with William. They were in their bed, it was early morning. His body cloaked hers; he was deep, deep inside of her. They were hurrying because the children would be knocking on the door any minute. Julia moaned, the feelings within her having tightened beyond tolerance. "Shh," William whispered in her ear. She knew why he urged her for stealth; the children could already very well be just on the other side of their door. "Julia," she heard him whisper, his voice so close to her ear it felt like he was in her brain. " _Closer_ ," she thought as she tightened her grip around him, firmly taking hold of his back, "Closer William," she urged. He seemed to storm even harder into her forcing her to moan, long and deep, once more. Moments later she felt William's thrusting change, growing more urgent, more desperate, somehow more _**real**_. Steam burst out of his nostrils rumbling across her ear, strong, rapid. He grunted with the exertion of pumping farther and farther inside of her. Every muscle in his body flexed, he drove into her with all his might. She too chased the edge with everything she had. She was so close. "Don't stop. Please don't stop," she pleaded.

Knowing the kind of dream Julia tended to have early in the morning, William had turned to her, having already been aroused by the thought. He had slid a hand up from her hips to firmly hold her ribcage, pushing to tuck her underneath him and he had whispered in her ear, "Julia." She had responded to his voice, his touch. She had slid her arms around his waist, gripped him hard, squeezed him closer to her. He had heard her desperate need as her voice called, "Closer William," breaching the boundary of his soul. He penetrated her, evoking a long, deep moan that called every cell in his body to her. He wanted to be deeper inside. He surged with all his might, grunting uncontrollably with the effort. "Don't stop. Please don't stop," she cried, awake now, wanting him more than she ever remembered wanting him before. She dug her nails into his lower back and she pulled him down to her as if her life depended on getting him deeper into her, "Please William," she cried, as tears formed in her eyes. " _There it is, right there_ ," he thought, now at the edge, about to soar. He felt her grab a hold of him tighter, hang on to him for dear life as the precipice came and they burst into the chasm together. Luscious, delicious joy gushed through them.

"Oh my God I love you Julia," William said; impossible to say whether his voice spoke or whether it whispered. She was crying, tears flowing down the side of her face, the liquid slipping into her ears. He tried to kiss the tiny streams away. "I love you so much," he said before taking a long breath, pulling in her scent.

She squeezed him even harder and said, with her voice squeakier than she would like, "Don't let go."

His arms wrapped more firmly around her and he whispered, "I'm right here." Still on top of her, still inside of her, he gently rocked her, holding her snug, while she cried.

He took his cue from her, feeling her grip on him loosen, hearing her take a deep breath. She turned her head and found his ear with her lips, her warm breath rumbling before her kiss. He brought her with him as he rolled over onto his back. She put her head on his chest, moved by his beating heart. She swallowed to moisten her voice and said, "That was amazing. You are truly magnificent," she said, and then giving him a playful squeeze she added, "As Ruby would say." He blushed. She didn't notice it yet. She went on, "Really William, you are an excellent lover." She lifted her head, caught his crimson color.

He dropped his eyes away from her, "Really now, Julia," he almost scolded.

Taking delight in his lack of ease, she brightened even more, "Don't you like hearing me say what a magnificent lover you are?"

He tried to look at her, giving her a sideways glance. He swallowed and said, "I …" he cleared his throat, his first attempt too scratchy, and said, "I like it."

"And do you doubt that it is true – that you are magnificent at making love?" she pushed, reveling in his discomfort, for every bone in her body knew that he knew he was, but that it would be so very difficult for him to admit it and appear vain. "William! Do you or do you not know that you are excellent at making love?" she teasingly demanded. He honestly couldn't turn any more red.

Finally he got his nerve up. He turned to her, holding her eye firmly and said, "I know."

She crawled up, swinging a leg over him to straddle him as if she were riding a horse and friskily scratched his chest. She said, "Now don't you go getting cocky about it William Henry Murdoch." She bent forward, to lie on top of him.

He stroked her air, intentionally catching her ear as his fingers glided by. "All that said, whenever what just happened happens … you have a dream like that and I, um, well, we end up making love … I worry that I'm, well … that I might be taking advantage of you …" he asked.

"Oh my God William, no… And if you are, well … you completely have my permission. What a wonderful way to wake up. Absolutely delightful," she replied.

"Good," he said.

Contentedly, she released a big sigh. "Yes, I really must say, a delightful way to awaken," she murmured into his chest. She sat back up on top of him, the mischievous glint in her eye sending thrilling swirls throughout his body and she reached behind her to tuck her fingers under the edge of his buttocks and teased, "All that bicycling makes such strong thrusting muscles, hmm?" William swallowed, the heat rising once again through his neck, up into his face. Then her hands shifted to slide up his stomach, reveled in the contours of his chest, rode the curves of his muscular shoulders and arms. She continued her scrumptious taunting, "Mm-mmm, and lifting those big, hulking weights so you can hold me so very tightly, with such force …" Her mouth curled up at the edges, warning him that she was going to make one of her jokes, "So, I can't run away," she giggled. Their hearts melted as William chuckled with her, for the thought of Julia running away during their passion was truly ludicrous.

The laughter seeming to lower the pressure of his blushing, William joined in to play the game, "Julia, I am not just a physical plaything you know…" he said, trying with all his might to sound insulted, "There is quite a bit more to it than that."

Julia friskily bounced on top of him, noticing for the first time how strongly he reacted to the sight of her breasts jiggling about as she did so. "Well of course William, there are all of the _**skills**_ you have, some of which I owe gratitude to your Madame friend, Miss Weston for … and all of your reading as well, particularly the Chinese methods and theories of Ishinpō. Oh how I love Ishinpō." Julia crawled seductively up his body to place her lips close enough to his ear that as she spoke he could feel her lips glance and graze across his skin and whispered, "But all of these things pale in comparison to you biggest asset… your amazing power of self-control William." She sat back up, still straddling him, to see his face. She was rewarded for her efforts.

William had blushed again. He dropped his chin, ducking from her eyes. And then he did it, sent her love for him catapulting – He looked up through his gorgeous long, black eyelashes, his warm, brown eyes sparkling, and said sheepishly, "Well, I lost that self-control just now."

The smile that grew on Julia's face was magnetic. She chuckled and nodded her head, "Yes, yes you did. And it was lovely. There is nothing in this world that thrills me more than when your need for me is so strong that you – you William Henry Murdoch, lose control and must take what you want so badly, take it right there, right then – and what you want that much is _**ME**_."

The knock at the door served to remind them they were not the only two people in the world. They were stark naked. "Wait a minute," Julia called out to the three little ones on the other side of the door. "O.K. Mommy, they heard Katie say. They each frantically searched for their pajamas, quickly remembering that it was too hot last night to put them on. That meant Eloise had left them under their pillows. Once William had his pajama bottoms on and Julia had pulled her nightgown over her head, William called out, "Come in."

The family cuddled together for a few moments on their bed. It was not that often that they saw their father bare-chested, and the children were drawn to the sight.

"I can see Daddy's muscles," Chelsea said.

William Jr. started to point particular muscles out and name them, "Bicep, tricep, deltoid … What's this one Mom?" he asked?" pointing to the large muscle closest to his father's heart.

"That's the pectoral muscle," his mother, the doctor, answered.

"Katie noticed the wound near her father's heart and asked, "What's that? … Can I touch it Daddy." William looked at Julia with concern, he didn't want to frighten her, the wound drawing attention to the fact that he could have died – could die.

Julia leaned forward, taking a caring hold of her daughter's shoulders, and said, "That's a wound sweetie. A place where your Daddy got hurt. He has lots of them. But your Daddy is very strong …" she continued as she reached around Katie to cup her husband's cheek, lovingly sliding her thumb back and forth along his chin, "He heals up well."

Katie asked, her changing of the subject away from his mortality bringing a sigh of relief from her father, at least at first, "Do you like Daddy's muscles Mommy?"

All eyes turned to Julia who responded, "Why yes, yes I do."

"Why?" Katie asked.

Julia thought for a moment, then she answered, "Well, it's hard to say why someone finds some quality or other sexually attractive in another person…"

William fidgeted, not really liking where the conversation was going. He sensed the "sex" question was going to come up. "Mm," he said, as he removed himself from underneath a child or two and got out of bed. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, ears keenly attuned to the conversation going on in the next room.

The children looked back at their mother to explain. "Your Daddy is a little uncomfortable about talking about this," she said.

"What?" Katie asked.

Julia tenderly smiled, "Sex," she answered. She took a deep breath and went back to their original question, "I think men and women are attracted to the things they don't each have in the other sex. Like, I don't have big, strong muscles, but your Daddy does."

William Jr. added, "And Dad doesn't have long, pretty hair!"

"Right," Julia agreed.

Little Chelsea had said very little, but she had been listening. She declared, "And you like Daddy's penis too!"

Julia heard William choke on his toothpaste in the bathroom. She herself felt her neck and cheeks redden. She cleared her throat and said, "Yes. Yes I do."

"And he likes your vagina, Mommy?" Katie asked.

"Yes, I believe he does."

"Why?" Katie asked again.

Julia leaned back to think about what to say. Honestly, she was relieved when William Jr. spoke up to answer her question.

"Because the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina to have sex," William Jr. said, matter-of-factly.

Katie turned to her mother with what seemed like the biggest question she had ever had in her whole life, "Is it true Mommy?" she urgently demanded to know.

William came out of the bathroom and was listening for her reply as well. Of course, she saw no recourse but to tell the child the truth about the facts. "Yes, honey, it's true," she calmly agreed.

"Why?" she asked insistently.

Julia scootched over closer to her and made an effort to explain, "Well," she started, "It is how men and women make love…"

Claire-Marie lightly knocked on the door frame at the open bedroom door. Looking at Julia she said, "Mam," then turned to look at William, "Sir." As soon as the young woman laid eyes on William she noticed his bare chest. Her eyes dropped and grew dark as she soaked in the sight of him. "I, um, I …" she was having trouble continuing her thought as she was quite distracted.

Julia rolled her eyes up to the heavens and then said, after clearing her throat in an effort to pull the woman's gaze off of her husband and to her, "We are in the middle of an important family discussion. We will be a few minutes. Would you mind waiting?"

Claire-Marie had come back to her senses and was now blushing. She said, "Yes, of course mam," and quickly darted out of the room.

Julia looked at William and said, needing to draw his attention too she noticed with a twinge of jealousy, "William … Perhaps you could go talk to Claire-Marie about our plans for later…" She had his full attention now and she could tell he understood that she was asking for him to prepare their nanny for the possible flight to a pre-planned sanctuary.

The memory sobered him. "Yes," he replied and turned to go…

"Oh, and William," Julia said, her voice a mixture of teasing and sternness, "Perhaps your talk would go better if…" she reached under his pillow to find his pajama top and then tossed it to him, "… You put this on, hmm," she finished with an eyebrow raised.

William caught it and said, "Yes … that sounds wise," with a slight wrinkle of apology at the corner of his mouth. He pulled the pajama top on over his head and went down the hall to inform Claire-Marie that they were trying to set up a place for her to go with the children to keep them safe.

As he walked out the door she said, more to herself than to anyone else, "It seems Claire-Marie finds your Daddy's muscles attractive too."

Katie relentlessly pushed to get back to their discussion, her curiosity bubbled over as she reminded her mother, "And Mommy, why do men and women make love?"

Julia shifted her position and answered, "Well, there is more than one reason why men and women make love. They may want to have a baby, and that's how the man's part of the baby, called the sperm, and the woman's part, called the egg, get together in the woman's womb," Julia touched her own abdomen, just above her pubic bone to show them where the womb was.

"Chelsea excitedly asked, "Are you and Daddy making a new baby?!"

"No, no honey, we're not. Um, I don't think I am able to make any more babies – William Jr. was the only baby your Daddy and I will have made. That's why we adopted you and your sister, we wanted more babies – we fell madly in love with you."

"Then why do you and Daddy make love?" Katie asked. Hearing the question as he returned to the room, William rolled his eyes.

Again, William Jr. jumped in, showing he had garnered much from his earlier talk with his father, "Because it feels good," he said.

Katie looked incredulous. She looked back at her mother and asked, "Does it feel good Mommy?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

Chelsea piped in, "Better than kissing?" she asked.

"Well, kissing is a part of making love, at least it usually is part of it, but um, yes, I would say making love feels even better than kissing."

William walked over to stand next to the bed and added, "When you are married and are in love with the person you are making love with." He took a deep breath and said, "Now, if we don't get a move on your Mommy and I will be late for work – Chop, chop!" He reached down to clutch William Jr. and spin him playfully around, throw him up in the air and then lightly toss him to the floor heading in the direction of the doorway. He turned and fixed his eyes on Katie next, prompting her to squeal with delight and then make an effort to escape his grasp. Her father spun and flung her around softly before sending her along as well. Next was Chelsea, she was jumping up and down on the bed, her anticipation palpable. William tenderly hurled the littlest one into a spin, then pulled her down to give her a big hug and a kiss and sent her off with a light pat on her bottom.

Julia was taken by surprise when he playfully turned to her. "Oh no. No you don't William," she ordered as she started to crawl backwards towards her side of the bed. She screamed out with delight as he jumped into the bed next to her, took her in his arms and pulled her out of the bed. Her arms wrapped around his neck, he held her with one arm under her knees and the other around her waist and he twirled them both into a dizzying spin. When he stopped and slowly let her feet find the floor, her brain swirled as her heart soared. He took her in a kiss. When the kiss broke off she said, "I love you William Murdoch, with all of my heart."

Later, heading off to work, William and Julia came outside on the porch; they greeted and thanked Constable Shaffer, cheering him up with a promise that Eloise would soon bring him some breakfast. William purveyed the environment, suddenly seeing everything as a threat. Thoughts like, " _Better check for a bomb under the carriage,_ " and " _Don't forget to keep an eye out for the dirigible_ " plagued him.

The Inspector teased Murdoch for being late again, implying that at least part of the reason was due to "frolicking with the missus." He so enjoyed seeing the buttoned-up detective blush with discomfort. William seemed particularly sensitive to his taunts today, he thought, likely because the new, young, Detective Gulliver was listening in. The mentee followed Murdoch to his office.

"Have a seat," Murdoch said. Detective Gulliver chose to sit on the stool at the work table. Murdoch sat at his desk. "Oh good," Murdoch said as he shuffled through his messages, "The incinerated materials from Mr. Lynch's effects have already been delivered to the morgue." He explained his plan of trying to lift fingermarks from the man's buttons, assuming the killer had removed the clothing to plant the poison and then replaced the clothing. Gulliver seemed impressed. Murdoch called George in.

"Good morning sir… Detective Gulliver," George politely said, standing at the door.

"Good morning George," William replied. "Dr. Ogden expressed some concern about the possibility that Isabel Webster is not actually the woman in the Don Jail – worrying that somehow she could have escaped…" he started to explain.

"Well I'm not surprised, sir," George said, glancing over a Gulliver, knowing the man would not understand the repercussions of what he was about to say. He continued, "The experiences the two of you had at the hands of James Gillies would certainly be enough to stir up doubt."

William nodded, "Yes," he said, and then took a deep breath as he tried to push down the feelings the memories of Gillies roused, "And so, I would like you to go to the Don Jail and take and compare the fingermarks of the woman who is there to the prints we have on file for her. Do you think you remember what she looked like George?"

George stood up taller and said, "I have an excellent memory for faces sir."

"Good," Detective Murdoch replied, "Please go as soon as possible. Thanks George." With a nod the constable headed to his desk to take care of any essential tasks, collect Miss Webster's prints, and then go.

"Oh, George," the detective called him back.

He peeked his head around the corner of the door, "Yes sir?"

His superior kept his eyes down on some papers on his desk, prompting George to notice that he had never quite seen the detective's desk so cluttered before, "I may want to compare some fingermarks from materials Dr. Ogden is working on in the morgue right now to Miss Webster's. Could you make a copy of her fingermarks before you go?" he asked, lifting his head to gaze upon the camera the constable could use to complete the task.

"Very good sir," George said as he crossed the room to take the camera.

Once they were alone again, detective Gulliver started up a conversation. "I am very much looking forward to meeting this Dr. Ogden. I hear she is a woman… quite astounding," he said.

Detective Murdoch's eyes and attention were elsewhere. He studied his desk working to prioritize the next steps. Mustering as much patience as he could, he answered, without looking up, "Yes, she is quite remarkable." Wanting some time to work on the cases without the distractions of dealing with the younger man, William remembered a way to get rid of him for a while. "Detective Gulliver, You had a good idea yesterday about searching suppliers of nitrogen to discover the identities of people who were possibly making bombs. Perhaps you would like to chase down that idea yourself? Take Constable Morris with you if you'd like…"

Gulliver stood up and said, "Yes, I will. Thank you." Murdoch reminded him to take the photos of all the persons involved with the case. With that, he took his leave.

Detective Murdoch walked out into the bullpen to find Higgins. He asked him if they had had any luck in the search for the whereabouts of Felicity Dawes and Carl Rodriguez.

"We've come up empty so far, sir. The last we thing we were able to find out about them is that they went to Spain to be married. That was over ten years ago sir," Higgins answered. William ran through his brain, trying to remember if any of the constables spoke Spanish. He couldn't remember any. He instructed Henry, "Call the Canadian Consulate in Spain and see if anyone there speaks either English or French and then try to ascertain whether they can find any records on them."

"Right away sir," Higgins replied.

William stood in his office door. He realized that he had a moment and decided to go buy Julia some flowers. He popped his hat on his head and said to Higgins on his way out, "If anybody needs me I'll be over at the morgue." Higgins couldn't help but smile, the detective's ulterior motives apparent to anyone who knew the couple.

Over in the morgue, Julia and Miss James worked, wearing masks and gloves, on sifting the back-gray ashes through the series of sieves, shaking out the smaller and smaller particles, working to find Mr. Lynch's buttons. They had had no luck finding a button so far, but pressed on.

Julia was playing songs on the Victrola. Miss James noted that her choices for the day seemed to be made up of sad songs. Julia explained, "I am feeling … melancholy today – I feel better when the music matches my mood." Miss James claimed to have a record with the saddest song she had ever heard. She played it for Julia.

It was a Negro-spiritualist song called, "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child." As it played and they worked, Julia was lured into memories; William sitting on the porch bench, nearly drowning in the pain of having been orphaned by his mother's death and his father's neglect; Sweet little Katie, trying to play with the other children at the orphanage, while she and William spoke with her little sister Chelsea, considering adopting her without adopting Katie as well; And then her standing at her own mother's death bed. Unaware of it, she had started to cry.

Miss James asked, "Doctor, should I take the song off? Is it bothering you?"

When their eyes met, Miss James knew she would not. Julia said to her, "No, please Miss James. It's absolutely the most wonderfully saddest song I've ever heard. Could I borrow it to play for my husband?" she asked. Miss James said 'yes.' She hoped to play it for William tonight. They would likely be alone. Hopefully the children would be safely on their way to Judith's house by then. The thought reminded her to call Judith again. She had been having trouble getting in touch with her.

He usually bought yellow roses, like they had had at their wedding, but the passion he was feeling pushed him towards the red ones. They were safely attached to the back of his bicycle, along with a box of chocolates as he pulled up next to the morgue. He propped the bike against the wall, unloaded his gifts and headed inside.

As he had done so many times before, William paused to notice the Victrola near the entrance. From the first moment he had seen it, nearly two decades ago, the phonograph player had come to represent the unique, and truly intoxicatingly matchless style of its owner. The record had finished playing and he put the needle back in its stand. Before he could lift his eyes, she'd already placed hers upon him.

Seeing the flowers in his hands, she pulled the goggles off of her face and instinctively called out, "William," rather than call him detective, which she usually did during the routines of a workday in the morgue.

Miss James looked up through her goggles to see him with Julia's call. She couldn't help but smile and shake her head. The straight-laced, quirky detective had a romantic side; it always surprised her.

William and Julia's eyes met, each soaking in the beauty of the other and enjoying the pleasant ways their bodies reacted to each other. As he stepped down to join them in the theater, he enthusiastically said, "Julia," then he turned to Miss James, "Miss James, Good morning." He looked back at his wife some of the happiness draining from his face as he noticed how truly unpleasant the task they were performing was. The smell of ashes permeated the air and both women were covered in a thin grey dust. He wrinkled up his face like he did when he was regretting something he'd said or done and said, "Sorry." Julia looked almost raccoon-like as the goggles had kept the grey film off of the circles of skin around her eyes and nowhere else. A part of him wanted to laugh; he pushed it aside.

"It is absolutely awful, William," she complained.

Now standing quite close to her he noticed her red eyes and her tear-streamed cheeks. He tenderly reached up to dry a tear with a caress of his thumb and asked, "So bad it has brought you to tears?" his face betraying his disbelief, suggesting a joke. Her chuckle encouraged him and he joined her in the laugh.

Julia dropped her eyes and then rejoined his to explain, "Um, No ... Miss James shared a sad song with me. It invoked a strong reaction in me is all." She looked away and then added, voice whispering for privacy, "I was going to share it with you tonight."

William lifted a brow and said, "Do you think I would enjoy such a sad song?"

"No, but I think ... Um, Well, it can be very cathartic, much like last night," she urged.

"Oh," William replied with a nod, not feeling convinced that it was an experience he wanted to have. She spied his gifts. Her insides melted. She felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close to her. "I thought I'd remind you how much I love you," he whispered.

Her breath warming his neck she replied, "Consider me delightfully reminded husband." She held out her hands, drawing attention to the ash-laden gloves prohibiting her from taking his presents without getting them dirty.

William said he'd put the flowers in a vase for her, and leave the chocolates on her desk for later. As he walked away to do so, he asked, "Have you been able to get in touch with …" He hesitated, even though he knew Miss James could be trusted, their plan for where to send the children was by its very nature intended to be secret.

Julia knew exactly what he was asking and quickly replied, "Um … No. There has been no answer. I expect to have better luck in the afternoon, um, knowing the usual schedule." The mood had changed as the spotlight had returned to their current danger.

Walking up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the working of the sieve, he said, his tone now quite professional, "Please let me know when you find a button doctor."

She responded, matching his professional tone, "Of course detective, but I think you should consider that "if we find a button" rather than "when" based on how it's going so far."

"Fair enough," he replied and took his leave.

Back at his desk, William stared out his window contemplating the myriad aspects of the cases, frustrated that he still was not even certain whether or not they were linked. Although he watched as some birds pecked around on the ground searching for food, he was much more focused on his thoughts. " _And what has happened to Clegg_ ," he wondered. He planned to have constables use Clegg's photo to ask around down at the docks to see if anyone has seen him, adding it to the constable to-do list. He decided to make the extra photos himself, retrieving the camera from Constable Crabtree's desk.

Detective Gulliver returned, the smile on his face bordering on being smug. His efforts had come up with a connection, a possible lead. One of the nitrogen suppliers had recognized Mr. Lynch, said he had been one of the men who picked up an order, about three weeks ago. There was no name associated with the order, and it was paid in cash, thus the lead went dry pretty quickly, but they now knew Lynch was connected to Connor, by more than just having black ink on his shoes and fine-grained cotton fibers on his clothing. They also knew the order was big. This was worrisome, indicating that they were building many, many bombs.

Higgins popped his head in to tell the two detectives that a body had been found in the middle of a school's sports-field.

"Please call Dr. Ogden and let her know. We'll take a police carriage to the scene and meet her there," Murdoch instructed. Detective Gulliver rubbed his hands together, his excitement apparent. Murdoch sighed, reminding himself of the morbid nature of what they were about to do, but he had to admit that if he were in the younger man's shoes, he would likely have felt the same way.

Having arrived before Dr. Ogden, the two detectives made a quick assessment of the scene. Murdoch insisted they look at the scene through the lens of safety, as there had been multiple attempts to kill members of the Constabulary. He voiced his concern about the location of the body to Gulliver. In order to get to the body, they would have to walk out into the middle of this field which was surrounded by places to hide. Rifle fire could easily be used to pick them of much like fish in a barrel. Further, he explained, the body itself could be rigged, with a bomb for instance, or even poison again. Murdoch found himself glancing up at the sky, half expecting to see a dirigible approaching.

Detective Gulliver found the detective to be paranoid. He was working to hold his tongue. He was much more interested in looking for the carriage from the morgue. He was excited about meeting Dr. Ogden. He had his reasons. It was Gulliver who spotted the carriage first, alerting Murdoch.

The carriage pulled to a stop and Dr. Ogden prepared to exit out of the front section located in front of the long section meant to carry the body. Detective Gulliver stood directly in front of the doctor's door; a surprised and dirty look from Murdoch not sufficient for him to give up his ground. He held a hand out to her as she stepped down.

Julia said, "Oh. You must be Detective Gulliver. I am glad to meet you. I'm Dr. Ogden." Once she stood before him she found she had to look up as he was quite tall – handsome too, she noticed.

He took her hand and raised it up to kiss it, prompting Julia to giggle slightly at the somewhat romantic gesture and glance at William. "It is a pleasure," Gulliver said. His eyes dilated as he looked upon her and he said, "Your reputation precedes you, but I'm surprised no one mentioned your astounding beauty as one of your many assets. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

William was seething. He had been trying to decide whether or not he liked the young detective, now he was certain that he did not. "A-hem," Detective Murdoch cleared his throat. With his eyes glaring at Julia he said, "Shall we get to the crime-scene?"

Julia pulled her hand away from Detective Gulliver and immediately became apologetic in stature, "Yes, yes. Of course detective … The body appears to be in the middle of the field. How do you think we should proceed … I mean in light of all the current threats and dangers we've been encountering?" she asked, sounding deferential.

Gulliver thought the body language between the two was odd. He found a need to remind himself that Murdoch was a married man, and certainly had a reputation of being morally upstanding, even prudish, and yet there seemed to be an almost romantic air about them, albeit a stiff one. He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts as Murdoch decided to highlight his inferior position by quizzing his "student" about what procedures would be best in this situation.

As a precaution against sniper fire from the surrounding woods and buildings, both the morgue carriage and the Constabulary carriage were pulled in to surround the body, thus blocking any potential shots from those areas. Dr. Ogden provided everyone at the scene with gloves, explaining that, as the Chief Coroner, she had made it a mandated procedure when dealing with a dead body. And Murdoch had instructed that everyone be on the lookout for anything that could be a bomb or a tripwire or any other means to detonate one.

Having instructed Gulliver to oversee the placement of the carriages, William and Julia stood alone together for a brief moment, still a distance from the body. Managing to keep his jealousy at bay, William glanced at his wife sideways, magnifying his gorgeous eyes, and with a tone of teasing in his voice, said, "So Dr. Ogden, was that payback for what happened with Claire-Marie this morning?"

The question took her by surprise. "I'll have to consider it," she answered. As they turned to walk together to the body she added, "Although you certainly do deserve some, hmm?" with a soft poke of her elbow against his side.

A shy smile crept up on his face, "Perhaps," he answered. There was the slightest blush.

As the three of them stood over the body it was apparent that the man had suffered hideous injuries. He wore only an undershirt, trousers, and shoes. The undershirt revealed an enormous hole in his upper arm that was about three inches around and easily an inch or two deep. It looked as if the skin had almost been picked or gouged out, and bone fragments and splinters could be seen mixed with the flesh. His other arm was completely missing, the location of the point from which it had been severed somewhat obscured by the sleeve of his shirt. There was an awful smell in the area – like sulphur, prompting Ogden and Murdoch to consider the presence of a poison that acts through inhalation. They decided the threat was minimal as the location was out in the open air, rendering concentrations of a given gas to be very small.

Detective Murdoch spoke first, "Similar to yesterday … Horrible wounds."

The doctor asked, "An arm is missing. Do you think it was an attempt to remove the fingermarks again?"

"I doubt it," Murdoch answered, "The right hand is still intact."

Dr. Ogden squatted down next to the body. Before he joined her on the opposite side of the body, William surveyed the area looking for threats once more. Gulliver watched on, thinking that the look shared between the two of them was a little too long, confirming his suspicions of a more amorous association.

William checked the trouser pockets. He was hoping to find something to help identify the victim. They were empty. He called out to a constable to inquire back at the school to determine who had found the body and whether or not there is someone here who could identify him. The man's face was relatively undamaged.

Julia said, "I think I've found the cause of death. Look here detective…" William stepped over to look where she was examining the man's neck. Gulliver was standing behind him and leaned over to see as well. She continued, "Here where the metal from the cross on his necklace has burned to the skin. Help me check the bottoms of his shoes…"

Sounding excited William exclaimed, "Brilliant doctor. You suspect lightning?"

Gulliver was impressed because he never would have thought such a thing, and not only did the doctor know the signs of a lightning strike, but the detective seemed to as well.

As they bent down close to the man's feet to examine the shoes, William asked, "But in order to consider lightning strike as a cause of death, wouldn't there have to have been storms in the area?"

"Yes, that is right detective. And there were quite severe storms in the middle of the night last night…" Ogden replied, her eyes focused on what seemed to be the soles of the shoe.

William said, "Oh?" the question drawing Dr. Ogden's gaze. He held her eye as he added, "I must have slept through them then."

A slight smile grew across the doctor's mouth as she dropped her chin and glanced away. "Yes – yes you did," she said, lifting her head and catching his eye and once again, holding it too long.

" _Definitely,_ " thought Gulliver.

Ogden turned back to the task at hand. She stuck a gloved finger between the sole of the shoe and the leather toe section, demonstrating that they had been torn apart.

The detective noted the same thing on the other shoe. "That confirms it then?" Murdoch asked.

"Yes, I would say so," Ogden replied.

The doctor stood, Murdoch following suit. She took a deep breath and said, "Time of death is challenging with lightning strike victims. The rigor is affected by the electrical currents running through the body. I will be able to confirm my suspicions as to the cause of death back at the morgue, with tympanic membrane rupture…"

The detective exclaimed, "Of course, perforated ear drums."

The doctor nodded and continued, "And cardiac arrest."

With a slight bow to her, Murdoch said, "Very good doctor."

The doctor became engaged in addressing the men who would transport the body. The two detectives stood together, both watching Dr. Ogden walk away. Much to Murdoch's surprise and disapproval, Detective Gulliver's questions were of a personal nature rather than a professional one.

"Forgive me sir if I overstep my bounds, but aren't you married sir?" he asked.

William's jaw dropped. He was too thrown by the direct and inappropriate question to reply.

Noticing the look on his mentor's face, Gulliver tried to explain, "I mean you wear a wedding ring sir. Told me you were married. And the Inspector even commented about your marriage being the cause of your tardiness this morning. Do you really think it is appropriate to behave in such a … flirtatious way with doct…"

"Sirs!" a constable called out from the field. "Doctor! I believe we've found his arm sir," he finished. Sure enough, a good thirty feet away from the rest of the body, there was the man's arm. It was loaded up into the morgue carriage with the rest of the body.

Another constable arrived at Murdoch's side to introduce the man who had called in the body. He knew the man. He worked part-time as a janitor here at the school. As best as they could tell, the man had returned here after a night of drinking to close up, and then got struck by lightning as he headed home during the storm.

During the carriage ride back to the station the two detectives sat in silence. Murdoch struggled with what to say to Detective Gulliver. He knew Americans were known to lack tact, but he believed the man had gone too far. Further, he clearly did not know that Dr. Ogden _**WAS**_ his wife, a mistake that might be forgivable as they do not share the same last name. Before he could think of what to say, Gulliver started. As they were already turning down the road to the stationhouse, he would likely not have much time to set the man straight.

"I was out of line back there detective, and I apologize. Your personal relationships are none of my business. I am embarrassed by my behavior. I hope you will be willing to give me another chance," the younger man offered.

A sense of relief spread through him, now he would not have to confront the young man, or try to teach him about what is proper professional behavior. William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, suggesting he was willing to let bygones be bygones, and replied, "I will try."

As they exited the carriage, Gulliver said, "I can't ask for better than that sir. Thank you."

Before they had even walked in the stationhouse door, Crabtree jumped up from the front seats and hurried over. "Detective …" Crabtree said, but noticing there were two of them he expounded, "Er, Detective Murdoch, sir," he started, seeming both nervous and excited.

"What have you George?" Murdoch asked.

He explained, "Well sir, the woman serving time in the Don Jail was not Isabel Webster as you and Dr. Ogden had suspected. She did not look familiar to me right up front, and then her fingermarks didn't match…"

"Very good George," the detective said. "We will need to interrogate her. You will need to …"

Crabtree interrupted, "Already done sir. She's waiting in the interrogation room."

Murdoch stood up taller, acknowledging the man. "Excellent work George!" he exclaimed.

"Thank you sir," George replied, glancing at the new detective. Try as he might, he seemed unable _**not**_ to feel jealous of the man.

William wanted Julia to know what they had found. He knew she'd be in the middle of the autopsy now, and so would likely miss the interview. He added, "And George, could you please give a call over to the morgue and tell Dr. Ogden about what you found out about Miss Webster?"

"Yes sir," he answered, "Oh and sir, Higgins said that Miss Dawes and Mr. Rodriguez did return to Canada, just about a month ago. He went to see if they could be found at the address he was given."

The three men had nearly arrived at Murdoch's office when Murdoch said, "It is looking like our victim was most likely Miss Dawes… And Isabel Webster is our prime suspect."

In the exercise yard at the Don Jail, Sally Smoot, AKA Countess Fausta, had an appointment to meet with Cecily McKinnon. She had heard that McKinnon had put a hit out on Dr. Ogden and was having trouble getting it completed. She also had heard that McKinnon could help her escape. At first McKinnon saw nothing that Smoot could offer her in return for being included in the escape, but then the woman argued her case. It turns out that Ogden had had an abortion. Smoot knew the name of the doctor who would have proof that Ogden had had the procedure. Once they had the proof, they could go to the press. Once the papers reported that Dr. Ogden had had an abortion and they had the medical records to prove it, there would be a trial and Ogden would be found guilty. The penalty for having an abortion was death. At best, she would get life in prison. All McKinnon needed to do was agree to include Sally Smoot in the escape plans and Ogden was as good as dead. Although McKinnon didn't have anything against Ogden, she figured the distraction and stress caused by having his wife sentenced to death or life in prison would be enough to throw Murdoch off his game. She agreed, provided the news stories could be running within two days. Dr. Tash's office was burgled before night's end.

During the interrogation, Murdoch determined that the woman in custody, Harriet Ward, had been found guilty of prostitution about a year ago. Because her appearance resembled Miss Webster's, she was "asked" to switch places with Miss Webster in the Don Jail, allowing Miss Webster to escape about three months ago. Miss Ward adamantly refused to tell them who did the asking, claiming that she was shown pictures of her young children at the orphanage regularly as a means of proving that they would be killed if she talked. Even when threatened with being returned to the prison and spreading rumors that she had given up the identity of this person, she would not bend. She said she would rather take her chances back in the prison and in danger than risk her children's lives. Murdoch decided to keep her in Stationhouse #4's cells for a while to see if her presence could be useful later in some way.

When Detective Gulliver and detective Murdoch got back to his office, Julia was waiting for them. She held a wrapped up cloth in her hands and a reagent bottle. She proudly said, "Gentlemen, thanks to Miss James, I have your buttons!"

Murdoch stood back and said, "Wonderful doctor." He quickly took the buttons and the chemical he would use to remove the excess silt and headed for the worktable. He went to the back room to get the materials he would need.

Detective Gulliver saw this as his chance. As Julia took a seat on one of the stools at the table, he came to stand directly in front of her. He placed a hand down on the table, bringing his eyes closer in line with hers and then leaned into her space. Julia felt uncomfortable, but did not back off. Gulliver seductively said, "So doctor, as you know I'm new in town," his eyes dropped down to her bosom for a moment before he looked up into her eyes again, "And I would love to have the company of a beautiful woman like yourself as I become," he leaned closer to her and breathed in, seeming to smell her before he breathed out, his proximity allowing her to feel his breath on her neck, "more familiar with…"

William walked back into the room and halted at the sight.

"Toronto," Gulliver finished.

William demanded, "Detective Gulliver …" but he saw Julia hold a hand out towards him telling him to stop. Against his better judgment, he decided to let her handle it her way.

She asked Gulliver, "Detective, I am easily twice your age …"

The young man interrupted her, "I pay your age no mind. Actually, I prefer a more mature woman. One who knows her way around the bedroom and better appreciates the things a young, strong man like myself has to offer."

Julia saw William reach up to rub his forehead. She was working to close her mouth herself, feeling that her jaw had dropped with the shock. She leaned back to get more distance between them, even though she had planned on convincing him to do so instead of her, and said, "Detective Gulliver …"

"Oh Julia, please do call me Dorian," he requested.

She began again, "Detective Gulliver, Do you not think it wise to determine whether or not a woman is married before you make such proposals? Why you could simply look for a wedding ring could you not?"

Gulliver's eyes dropped down to explore her bosom again, glancing at her hand.

William noticed his hands were curled into fists. Although Julia did not seem to be attracted to the man the whole situation was more than he could take. He exhaled sharply, preparing to attack. Julia noticed and once again asked him to stop, holding up her hand to halt him once more. He called on his "amazing self-control."

Gulliver looked back at her again and said, "Again, not a deterrent for me. I suspect that Mr. Ogden has become quite boring, particularly in the bedroom. Your being married only makes me more desirable."

Julia stood up off of the stool, pushing her chest against his as she did so. She was relieved that he took a step back. She said, "I really do think you have a thing or two to learn about women detective. In my case…" she put her hand on his chest, near his heart (which she could feel was beating very fast) and pushed him back away from her, "My husband has encouraged me to keep my own name even after we married, as a sign of respect. So, there really isn't a Mr. Ogden per se. And, if you must know, my husband's performance in the bedroom far exceeds anything a young, arrogant, self-involved, male-chauvinist pri …" Julia paused, stopping herself from using the derogatory word. She stepped between Gulliver and the worktable, taking the most direct route towards William and asked, "Would you like to know my husband's last name detective? I think you might find it very interesting."

Gulliver's face took on a tone of regret. He remembered the way she and Murdoch had interacted earlier, and he had figured out that she was his wife. His mind was racing so quickly into a jumble that he felt dizzy.

Julia said to William, "William, I owe you an explanation. I didn't really want to embarrass him so, but his attitude towards women, his belief that they would all just melt at the thought of having sex with him, so angered me that I lost control of myself. I'm sorry William."

William realized that he had had a similar reaction to the man.

The problem they all faced now was that they needed to work together after such an awkward experience. They needed to fix it and move on. The cases they were working on were far too urgent to let such matters get in their way. William had no idea how to go about repairing it, but he suspected it would actually be Julia who could figure it out.

As if to prove him right, it was she who took action. She addressed Detective Gulliver, "I have apologized to my husband for my inappropriate behavior, and now I believe I need to apologize to you for it as well. It was unfair of me to allow you to proposition me so without informing you of my marriage to … well, to the man you report directly to." She looked to him, waiting for his reaction.

Detective Gulliver took a seat on the stool. With his eyes down he decided it would be best to come clean. He said, "I am very ashamed. I wanted more than anything to have your respect Detective Murdoch, and it will be that much harder now to earn it. And as for you Dr. Ogden, you are right that I am arrogant and I do expect women to find me attractive. To be honest, they usually do. But I behaved in such a way with you because I found you to be particularly appealing… Perhaps because of your professional accomplishments, or the drive and intellect you have that allowed you to get so far in the world as a woman. I am not quite sure, but truthfully, I was smitten, and unfortunately I relied on what I believed to be my sex-appeal to have a chance with you. Of course, I know now that I never had a chance with you for all sorts of reasons, but I want you to know, it wasn't because I thought badly of you … Quite the opposite… So, I'm sorry to both of you."

Detective Gulliver was still unable to look either of them in the eye, but William and Julia looked to each other. Julia lowered her head slightly; William took it to mean she thought he should say something. His head started to buzz. He cleared his throat and said, "I for one am willing to try to see that each of us made mistakes here. I certainly should have told you that Dr. Ogden and I were married. I just took it for granted that you knew. Everyone here knows and I am truly surprised you could be in this station for two days and not have had anyone actually say something about it. Once I realized you did not know, I should have told you. I'm sorry I did not. It's just that I am not one to talk about my private affairs easily." To that Julia giggled. William chuckled as well and added, "As you can tell by my wife's reaction."

The touch of humor helped, and Gulliver took the chance of looking him in the eye. He stood and directly spoke to Murdoch, "I have to thank you, again, for being willing to try with me, again. I feel I do not deserve it, but I am surely grateful for it."

"So then, let's see if my idea about lifting fingermarks from incinerated surfaces will work," Murdoch said happily, clasping his hands together with excitement.

Julia marveled at how quickly her husband's childlike curiosity surged through him. He was truly one of a kind. "I will leave you two to it, and get back to my post-mortem then. Oh, and William our plan for tonight is a go. Both phone calls have been made. Can you arrange the transportation?" she asked. He nodded. "Great. Then I bid you good-day gentlemen," Julia said and took her leave.

William took a moment to go to the stationhouse stables and arrange for a man to take the carriage to his house around midnight. The children and Claire-Marie would be escorted to Judith's house up the hill from their lake-house.

Once William got back to his office, the two detectives poured their attention into their work, soon getting over the awkwardness and replacing it with a healthy dose of teamwork. It didn't hurt that the procedure worked, and even more amazingly, that they found a thumb print that matched Isabel Webster's. They had her for murder, if they could only find her before she found them.

Constable Jackson burst into Murdoch's office, causing both detectives to jump and look up. Nearly screaming he said, "Sir, there's been a home intrusion… Sir, it's your house!"

"What?" Murdoch asked, already moving towards the door.

"I'm sorry sir. A neighbor of yours called. She said she saw a bunch of men in masks pull up with at least two carriages. They rushed into your front-door. Sir, she said the constable posted was lying on the ground," Jackson blurted out the information as Murdoch grabbed his hat and ran for the door.

"We'll need the carriages… Break out the armory… Tell the Inspector. I'm going to go get Julia. Get us that carriage!" he hollered before he was out the front door and gone.

When they arrived at the house, their neighbor was standing at the front gate. The front-door was wide open, and Constable Shaffer was lying on the ground. William had jumped out of the carriage before it had stopped. "Did you see them take the children?" he yelled, tears in his eyes.

"No!" the woman hurriedly replied. "But I think there were men at the backdoor too," she warned.

William was already up the porch steps by the time she finished her sentence. With barely a glance to determine whether or not Shaffer had been killed, he bolted into the house. "William Jr., Katie!" he called out. William's eyes caught the scrutiny camera and he thought that it could help but it would take too long. He ran to the back door. It had been burst open. He stepped out onto the back patio. It was broad daylight. No one was within sight. He rushed up the stairs. "Chelsea, Katie!" he called again.

Julia brought the neighbor to the porch with her. Another constable was tending to Shaffer, he was alive. The Inspector ran past her into the house carrying a rifle. Julia ran down the stairs to the playroom, tears and panic turning her voice into shriveled-up shrieks, "Katie! William Jr.! Please God!" It was empty, left untidy. They were probably in here… " _Oh my God,_ " Julia thought, feeling the panic taking her away, " _They were gone!_ "

The Inspector put an arm around her. "They're not here. Let's go back upstairs," he said.

She leaned on him hard. She was having trouble standing. Once she got to the top of the stairs she saw William. She had to slow her breathing, she knew it, in order not to faint, in order to hear what he was saying.

"Julia, they got away! They used the secret passageways and the tunnel. There is a lamp – still warm to the touch, at the end of the tunnel. Did you hear me? They got away," William said, hope in his eyes. He took her upstairs and showed her the scratches on the floor in Katie and Chelsea's room where the hidden door had opened.

"But William," Julia said, feeling less panicked, "For all we know, it could be only one of them that escaped – or …" fear covered her face again and her voice rose into a screech as tears filled her eyes once again, "Or the men could have followed them into the tunnel."

He took a deep breath. Experience had taught him to work to stay in control and focused. He looked firmly into her eyes. He took another deep breath, guiding her to do the same. Then he said, "Mrs. Banks said that she saw the men leave without any children. I think we can assume they got away." He took her arm and brought her downstairs.

"But if they got away, why aren't they here? Wouldn't they come back here?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so. They would worry that the bad men were still here," he suggested.

Out on the porch the Inspector was addressing the constables. Shaffer was conscious now. From down the road, Claire-Marie came running. Once they spotted her they ran to her, meeting her at the front gate. She was so out of breath she could not speak. William called out statements, giving her the opportunity to nod or shake her head to answer. "Did the children get away?" he asked. She nodded 'yes.' Julia clasped her hands in front of her chest and appeared to pray for a moment. William reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. They shared a relieved and grateful look. William turned back to Claire-Marie. He asked, "Where are they?" but quickly realized she could not answer that with a 'yes' or 'no.' "Do you know where they are? he tried again. She nodded her head 'no.' He reached for Julia, knowing she would be upset. William made himself take another deep breath.

Claire-Marie held one hand to her chest, but lifted her other hand to signal she was going to try to speak now. "William Jr…" she breathed, "said he …" she breathed again, "knew where to go."

"Good. Good," William said.

Claire-Marie took another deep breath. Recovered enough to explain more, she told them the whole story. "Mrs. Banks called to warn us that the constable out front seemed to be lying on the ground unconscious. Then while she was on the phone she said that some carriages had pulled up to the house – And a lot of men wearing masks were getting out, coming to the front door, some around the back. I dropped the phone and turned to the children and asked if they knew a place to hide. They took me upstairs into the girl's room and opened up a door to the secret passageways. We heard the men's footsteps and the backdoor break opened. We went so fast into the darkness. William Jr. knew there would be a lantern down at the bottom of the ladder and we had to be so quiet as we crawled down, so they wouldn't hear us in the walls. Once we were in the tunnel, I lit the lamp. We made our way to the end. It was far enough in the woods that they didn't see us crawling out. But we could see through the trees that the men were still looking for us. Some were even on the roof. William Jr. said he knew a place to go. I gave him all the money I had, 5 dollars, and I decided it would be best if I stayed back in case the men came this way, then I would take off in the opposite direction to pull them off of the children."

William looked at Julia and said, "It looks like they are safe." She tried to believe him, having coached herself that panicking would accomplish nothing.

Eloise returned; it was the time of day that she usually started supper. It was agreed that Claire-Marie and Eloise and Eloise's husband would stay here at the house in case the children came back here. William and Julia packed bags and planned on working straight through at the station until the children were found. They notified the press, requesting that they publish the children's photos and ask citizens to keep a look out and notify them if they see anything. They decided to try searching in places that they thought William Jr. might think of to go. They tried his friends, the Club, William's church, even Dr. Tash's place, all to no avail. They made endless phone calls to anyone and everyone they could think of. William developed the film from the scrutiny cameras. None of the men could be recognized because of the masks. They would try to find the carriages tomorrow.

Now nearly midnight, William and Julia sat in William's office, the stationhouse lights dim, only one or two constables on over-night duty, the adrenaline had run down, their hearts and breathing were slowed. They each fought against panic and despair. When one of them would begin to weaken, the other would say something logical and helpful, like "The evidence suggests they are safe." William argued that they needed to try to get some sleep. That there was nothing they could do right now, and that they wouldn't think as well if they hadn't slept. He suggested that they try to sleep for a while in his reclining chair. They had done this many, many years before when they had had a big argument and they needed to talk it through. It was a good memory, and it helped them remember to have hope. They used the stationhouse bathroom to brush their teeth and for Julia to remove her corset. They pulled down the shades in the office and Julia slid in next to William on the chair, resting her legs over his. Sleep came.

 _ **Now, in the midst of the storm, it is most important to keep your wits about you. Mistakes at this point can be deadly. Stay alert, ready to run, ready to duck. Know and use places to hide for safety. Remember all things you have learned. Use the light from the flashes to see, to help you make decisions about which way to go, and whether it is best to go at all. William and Julia are together, but their children are in grave danger. Threats are striking from all sides. And the rumbling of panic in their heads clouds their use of their strongest asset – their minds. Stay focused on the task at hand. Stay present in the now. Avoid the distraction caused by letting your mind race ahead to all of the awful things that could happen, but at the same time plan ahead to get where you need to be. This is living life on the edge – Can William and Julia keep their balance?**_


	12. Chapter 12

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 12: Wednesday, August 13, 1913

He took her hand and they ran for their lives towards the clearing, lightning-bolt strikes seeming to come from every direction, defining their way through the woods. Torrents of rain and deafening thunder drowned out the pounding of their hearts and their desperate breathing. Soaked, slimy, branches scratched across her face as the metronomic beat played in her head, " _Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods?_ " The clearing in sight, she wanted to let up, but William pulled her forward with increasing force. He knew that they were most vulnerable when they thought they had almost made it to the clearing, but hadn't yet actually done so. In the center of the field, they halted and he held her eye firmly. Out of breath, raindrops pelting his face, he reminded her that they needed to send the electrical current from the life-threatening lightning down an alternate path, sparing their cores, saving their hearts. They squatted, facing each other. "Keep your heels off of the ground and touching each other," he instructed her. Ominous, long, thin shadows darkened their periphery and slowly began to creep in towards them. "This is it William," she said, looking into his beautiful eyes, knowing with certainty that a more powerful love had never been, would never be. He leaned his head closer to her ear and the world began to spin as he whispered, somehow eradicating the noise of the storm with his handsome voice, "Don't give up hope, Julia."

Suddenly it was bright, quiet. A fluttering sound close by having called her attention … She was awake, in William's office, in his reclining chair, in his arms. He slept, his slow, deep breathing helping to ground her. " _Something's wrong_ ," she thought … " _Oh my God – The children! They're gone_!" Her heart raced with the thought, and a strange dizziness and gravitational sinking took her ability to breathe. Again the same fluttering sound drew her attention. She looked to the window behind William's desk – " _Just a bird, its wings flapping against the glass_ ," – she reassured herself, as it scurried about searching for food and squabbling with others. She looked back to see if her movement had woken him. Still peaceful, the sight of him healing her panic, she sighed, " _My God I love him so_ ," she thought. As if it were whispered in her ear, she heard it, " _Mommy,_ _Daddy's sleeping_ ," Chelsea's small, child voice warming and breaking her heart in the same moment. Against her will, tears welled in her eyes, her throat choked – the ache took hold. She needed him. She took a breath, gave-up on being silent to preserve his sleep, knowing the inhalation would shake and squeak with her distress, and she huddled closer to him, burrowing her tear-soaked face in his chest.

William stirred, his still-soft body and calm breathing betraying to her that he had not yet remembered – that for this one brief second in time, he did not know, that their children were in peril. She waited, dreading seeing the anguish invade his tranquil face. His eyelids opened and their eyes met. " _Concern for my tears_ ," she thought at first, only to see it become replaced by fear as he remembered their plight, and then to her surprise, anger as his jaw tightened and his pupils focused.

Inside him the rage was so potent it made him nauseous. " _How dare someone threaten my children; Julia – Make her cry_ ," the thought raced through his mind. Anger pumping through him, he felt it's power. He would fight. He carefully wiped a tear from her cheek and said, "It's time for offense now Julia. We must find who is doing this – it's the only way to stop them."

His strength and confidence was contagious, and she felt inspired to fight as well. "Shall we then detective?" she asked as she gazed into his eyes finding it felt like home. They paused for a moment, one of those times when they each had been caught off guard by the strength of their pull on each other, breath halted, a silent hum in their ears.

Need took him, and while holding her eye, he took a deep breath. Out on the fringe of her vision, she noticed the movement of his white undershirt as his chest rose and dropped. It brought her back into the movement of reality, she breathed as well. He smiled, recognizing the connection, treasuring the moment they had just shared, and then leaned over to pull the lever to bring the reclining chair into its upright position as he said, "Yes, let's."

Having packed a fresh set of clothes and other sundries, they were able to change in William's office, privacy provided by the lowered blinds, and use the constabulary bathroom, and begin their day. Julia headed over to the morgue to check in with Miss James and planned on coming back quickly to work with William to solve the case, to stop the people threatening them and their children – to be safe. The morgue was very quiet, Miss James just re-stocking some of the supplies. Still on her desk from yesterday, from before the children were lost (Julia had found that life had come to be divided up based on that one tragic event, events either happening before or after the world seemed to change) she found his "reminders" of his love for her. The red roses had opened up to their ultimate peek, the early morning sun illuminating them as if they were on the stage. The box of chocolates sat on top of her calendar. She chuckled to herself at her body's reaction to seeing the box – she salivated, her stomach even growled. She remembered they had not eaten dinner in their panic. She would bring the box over and share them with William, " _A healthy breakfast_ ," inside, she giggled.

As Julia walked in the stationhouse door, carrying the box of chocolates, she saw William, the Inspector and Detective Gulliver picking up their messages at the tall front desk. Brackenreid's eyes grew large with excitement upon seeing that he had been sent a case of scotch as the constable behind the desk softly grunted, lifting it up to place it on the high surface.

Murdoch was immediately suspicious of foul play and quickly stopped the Inspector from removing the package from its perch. He had noticed that the brand name was not the same as the one the Inspector usually drank, further, there had now been multiple attempts to kill people at the constabulary, the Inspector himself specifically. "Sir, did you order any of this brand of scotch to be delivered here?" he asked.

Looking unhappy, he thought for a second and then grumpily replied, "No Murdoch, but it is also a good brand…" before he realized the threat. Quickly he said, "Oh, oh I see… Yes of course Murdoch, it is suspicious indeed."

Murdoch pulled up a chair and stood on it to better examine the package on the high front desk. "It says here that the sender is a Councilman Johnson. Do you know such a man sir? Murdoch asked.

Brackenreid took a deep breath, "No I do not," he said.

"Do you think it has been booby-trapped?" Julia asked, knowing it would be a moment before he answered because he had that look he gets when he is running scenarios through his mind, his head tilted to the side with a focused, nearly cross-eyed stare.

After a moment he responded, "It is certainly possible. Perhaps a bomb … or even aconite poison again." He climbed down from the chair and talked through a plan with them. Anyone working with the package would need to wear gloves in case it was booby-trapped with poison. Dr. Ogden went to get a few pairs from the morgue. If it was a bomb it would likely be based on the landmine design he had seen in Flate's weapons plans. That would mean they would need to have a way to continue to keep the button on the top of the bomb pressed down while the package was opened. He figured that they could use a knife to cut the top of the box off around the edges, then cut and pull the sides down enough to look inside. It was determined that Murdoch and Gulliver would perform the operation. Everyone else waited outside as a precaution.

Indeed there was a landmine under the first row of scotch bottles. Murdoch had been able to determine that the button was held down by pressure from the middle bottle. Gulliver maintained the pressure on the button by pushing on the center bottle, while Murdoch removed the bottles to each side of it. Then Murdoch slid the knife-blade in between the button and the bottom of the bottle that Gulliver was holding in place. Gulliver lifted the bottle away and it did not blow. Murdoch slowly slid the blade off of one side of the button to place his finger on it. Once he could push down on the button with his finger, then the blade could be completely removed. Now all he needed to do, assuming this bomb matched the design he'd studied, was to twist the button to the right to lock it back down in place.

Whew, it worked. Murdoch had saved the day! – Or at least that part of it. Murdock applied tape to the top of the bomb to ensure no one would accidently untwist, and thus re-arm, the bomb. He asked it be brought down to the armory and packed in a box labeled "landmine."

As the constabulary filed back into the station, the mood was celebratory, veins pumped full of adrenaline that needed to be burned off. There were cheers and compliments and pats on the back for the two brave men. The Inspector opened a bottle of the new scotch, pleased, "as bloody hell that it hadn't been blown up either," and offered a drink to all.

Surprised by the action, Murdoch pulled his pocket-watch away from his vest to glance at the time and protested, "But sir, it's just after eight o'clock in the morning."

"William, don't spoil it," Julia urged with a whisper.

William was not only taken aback by the lack of meeting moral standards, but also by the potential danger. He answered, "That bottle came directly from a package that was rigged with a bomb! Don't you think it might also be …"

Julia pulled back and looked at him with disparagement, able to hold the serious expression only briefly before a smile grew on her face. William braced himself, knowing one of her jokes would soon follow. "Now William, I'm sure the murderer would have considered _**also**_ poisoning the scotch to be ' _ **overkill**_ ' hmm?" she teasingly asked. William ducked his chin, twisted up a corner of his mouth, and raised an eyebrow at her, prompting her to giggle. His heart warmed, but he rolled his eyes to express his impatience with the whole situation. He joined her and Detective Gulliver as they went into the Inspector's office to plan the day.

Hunger driving Julia to distraction, she invited William to sit next to her on the Inspector's couch and she opened the box of chocolates on her lap. William's face betrayed his eagerness. They wolfed them down while they spoke. The Inspector, likely not knowing it was the closest thing to a meal the couple had eaten in nearly 24 hours, reached into the box and took one for himself, his triumphant mood still ruling his decisions. They set up a protocol of wearing gloves whenever opening mail, at least until the culprits of these attacks had been captured. All packages were to be dealt with as hazardous, particularly if they were not from an expected sender. The Inspector called Margaret and warned her about opening any mail sent to their hotel. She was coming by to get some gloves from Dr. Ogden.

In an effort to find the children, Dr. Ogden would be calling everyone they could think of who might have been a person the children would have thought of as safe to run to. She would use the phone in the morgue to keep the phone lines here in the stationhouse clear for any essential incoming calls. There was hope that the children, or whomever they had gone to, would call. Murdoch would develop and analyze the photos from the scrutiny cameras in their home to see if they offered any more clues as to who was after them, and now their children.

Murdoch talked through his thoughts on the clues they had from the case, and the best corresponding actions to take in light of those clues. He explained that Higgins had discovered that Dawes and Rodriguez had married in Spain but recently returned to Canada. They had left the address provided by the consulate, but Higgins had some leads to follow to figure out where they were and would be following up on them. He suggested that Detective Gulliver go with Higgins.

William also wanted his wife to attempt to talk with Miss Ward, figuring that Julia's current predicament, having her children abducted – at least that was how they had presented it to the press, most likely by the same people who were threatening Miss Ward's children, might draw her sympathy and encourage her to give up the mastermind. Julia agreed to try.

They also planned to follow Isabel Webster's trail as she impersonated "Harriet Ward" after she was released from prison with the hope of finding their prime suspect in the three killings (Lynch, the coroner - Reynolds, and the former Miss Dawes, now Mrs. Rodriguez). Murdoch was still troubled by the black-ink footprints he found at the Don Jail visiting room. He suspected they were Connor's … But if Connor wasn't visiting Miss Webster in prison, as she had been released as Miss Ward by the time the footprints were made, then who was he visiting? There certainly were connections between Webster and Connor. Clegg had told them that his spy, Jane, reported that Connor was running an illegal weapons business and that Flate (the first man found dead after his experiment on his boat had failed) had provided him with the plans and had been helping with the engineering of the construction of the weapons. And then some of those very same weapons had been used in the attempted murders of Dr. Ogden and himself at the site where Dawes' body had been found, providing a strong link between Webster and Connor. This had to be bigger than just the two of them – especially when considering the bombing of the Inspector's home with a dirigible and now this package-bomb this morning.

Once William brought up the bombing of the Inspector's house, Julia was reminded of her intention to ask him if he thought it was a good idea to offer their guest quarters to Margaret and the Inspector. She decided to do so when they were alone. She did so, and they quickly returned to the Inspector's office and made the offer, suggesting they wait until after the current cases were solved before they would move in. The Inspector liked the idea, thanked them for the offer, and said he would discuss it with his wife.

Julia went to the morgue to make some calls. Having no luck finding the children after about six calls, she received a call from the stationhouse asking her to come over to talk with Miss Ward.

Julia spoke with Harriet Ward in the Interview Room as William watched from outside. She could see the woman was torn, that she felt Julia's pain as a mother whose children were in grave danger, but in the end Miss Ward had said, "I know the morals of the people here at the constabulary will not allow them to kill or harm my children, however, if I tell you who threatened my children and made me switch places with Miss Webster, then my children are as good as dead. I am so sorry your children have been taken Julia, I truly am. But I would rather face my own death than let that happen." Julia convinced William not to let Miss Ward be returned to the Don Jail until the mastermind behind all of this had been caught. He agreed to keep her in custody at the stationhouse until her trial for aiding and abetting the escape of a prisoner was held and her sentence passed down. They both hoped she would get off with time already served.

Margaret stopped by, intending to offer comfort to Julia as she remembered Julia had given her much solace when her youngest son, Bobby, had been abducted so many years before. Her compassion and effort did help. Julia thanked her for her companionship and special empathy that only another mother could likely have. They discussed the offer extended by Julia and William for them to stay in their guest quarters until the reconstruction of the Brackenreid's house was finished. It was agreed that they would do so as soon as this case was solved. They hugged each other and then Julia went back to work in the morgue. She wanted to get back to making calls – desperation seeming to take her in waves, she nearly ran across the street to get back to her search.

William had begun developing the pictures from the two scrutiny cameras he had placed at the front and back doors of their home. Julia was speaking to him from the other side of the curtain, filling him in on who she had called when Meyers entered the office.

"Dr. Ogden," he said, "How do you manage to look so beautiful even under such stress?" Before she had a chance to reply he quickly went on, "I came by to offer my condolences and offer my help – the papers tell of your children being missing, likely abducted. Is this correct?" he took a puff on his cigar while waiting for her to respond.

William had decided he didn't care if the pictures he was currently working on got overexposed, he was getting out there! His jealousy had been roused by Meyers' "you look so beautiful," comment, and he wanted to nip the whole affair in the bud. Before the curtain had opened, and before Julia could once again attempt to answer Meyers, William's voice could be heard from the back room, "Mr. Meyers …" he said slowly, sounding sarcastically surprised, he pushed open the curtain and said, "Your sympathy is appreciated, but I wonder, do you have spies in places that would likely be of any help… I mean would they have been privy to where our children might have been taken?"

Julia realized that William did not intend to inform Meyers that they believed their children had escaped capture. She wasn't sure why, but she would play along. "Oh Terrence," she said, drawing a dirty look from her husband for using his given name once again, but hoping to endear Meyers and inspire him to provide any help finding the children he could, "Do you think you could help us find them?"

William felt sick to his stomach. He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself to remain quiet.

Meyers exhaled, cigar smoke lingering in the air around him, causing his eyes to squint, the resulting sneaky look challenging William to rally against his distrust. "I will certainly do all I can," he answered her.

"Good," William said, as if it had been him that Meyers had spoken to. "Now, we do have an awful lot on our plate …"

"Yes," Meyers said, "Speaking of the case Murdoch, do you find it at all odd that Mr. Clegg has not been around harping on and on about how incompetent Canada is by not finding this Connor and his "spy," Jane, yet?"

Murdoch felt better, more on solid ground now. "Uh, well yes… I sent some constables down to the docks with Clegg's photo yesterday. Let me follow up and get back to you on that," he replied, feeling good about having been one step ahead of the man. Meyers bid them good day and went to meet with the Inspector.

Constable Morris knocked on Murdoch's open door. "Sir, there's a call for you – a Dr. Tash," he said. William and Julia shared a look. Hope grew in their eyes.

"Of course, he had been taking William Jr. to his swimming lessons at the Club!" William exclaimed. Julia listened on as William spoke to Isaac, her optimism dwindling as the conversation indicated that the children were not with him. William hung up the phone and explained, "Tash's office was broken into last night… Likely the same men who were looking for the children…" he said with a wrinkle of the corner of his mouth indicating he wasn't sure.

Julia nodded in agreement and added, "Yes, likely. They were probably able to learn that he was a family friend. They might have suspected that the children would have fled to him." Apprehension and worry overtook her face. She said, her voice raising a few octaves showing her stress, "William, that means that the men who invaded our home know the children are hiding somewhere, among our friends…" Panic seized her heart, "William, they are hunting for the children," she cried, her face wrinkling up as she fought back tears.

He could not deny it. His silence told her he agreed with her assessment, the thought sending her nearly over the edge. She felt dizzy, and reached out for the stool needing to sit so as not to fall. William hurried from behind his desk to take her in his arms. Her face tucked in against his shoulder he spoke into her ear, "Julia, we have to stay focused … follow every clue, hmm?" He felt her nod and then take a deep breath, working to pull herself together. They decided she should would go back to the morgue and call everyone they knew. She would not only ask if they had heard from the children, but also try to determine if they had been visited or noticed anyone watching them, and if so, get a description. Perhaps it could help lead to the men who had attempted to abduct the children.

Murdoch escorted her to the front door of the stationhouse. He stopped in the bullpen to find a constable to bring in the motel clerk from the Maramount Motel – the motel where he had found Jane and where he had been knocked unconscious, most likely by Connor. He believed the clerk had lied about knowing Connor. He wanted a chance to try to get more information out of the man.

Gulliver and Higgins returned to report that there was a neighbor near the first home Miss Webster went to after her escape who recognized her as Miss Webster by the photo. She said she had moved out within a week or so. She left no forwarding address and no one knew where she had moved to – the trail had run dry. Detective Gulliver accompanied Murdoch back to his office. He was shown how to develop film while Murdoch re-did the last photos he had over-exposed when Meyers had shown up.

After finishing developing the pictures from the scrutiny camera, William was very disturbed by what he saw. There had been at least eight men enter the house, every single one of them was armed _**with the weapons drawn**_. His gut instinct told him they looked intent on _**killing**_ , more than abducting, the children. Fear crept up his back – the danger had been much more perilous than they had believed. Never before had he been more relieved that he had built the secret passageways and tunnel in the house. Terrified by the thought of what would have been if the secret escape route weren't there, he pushed it away, forcing himself to address Gulliver rather than allow the thought to continue. He asked Gulliver's opinion on what he believed was the most likely intent of the men based on what he saw in the photos. Gulliver voiced the same impression. William knew his next step. They would need to go back to the house and look for any clues to help determine who the men were.

There was a constable on guard at the house. He claimed there had been no suspicious activity. Once inside, Murdoch introduced Eloise and her husband to Detective Gulliver and then they went about searching the house for evidence. The scrutiny camera showed that all of the men wore gloves, so they didn't check for fingermarks. They took some photos of shoeprints – it had rained early Tuesday morning, William remembered, thinking of the janitor's body they had found struck by lightning, so the men who had went through the backdoor had mud from the side of the house on their shoes. They also took casts of the shoeprints in the mud around side at house, knowing they would need to eliminate those that matched constables at the scene.

Detective Gulliver found an important clue – one that supported the theory that the men had had murderous intentions. In the living-room, in the wall by the curtain, he found a bullet lodged in the wall. They figured that the curtain had moved in the breeze and the shooter reacted as if it were one of the children moving. The bullet came from a .38 caliber handgun. Back at the station Murdoch would have the caliber and striation pattern matched against all of the 38mm bullets they have in their files. It would be a long and tedious job. Perhaps it would get them a name, an address… Chelsea's favorite stuffed bear was missing. There was some dried mud on the floor near her bed. Maybe one of the men had taken it, or perhaps Chelsea took the beloved toy with her. Otherwise, they didn't find anything else.

Upon returning back at the station, Murdoch was informed that Clegg had been seen down by the docks by the manager of a textile factory at the end of Bowling Avenue. Clegg was said to be asking questions about a doxie. The man recognized the photo of Jane, saying Clegg had a picture of the same woman. He told him the same thing he'd told the constable earlier, that the woman looked familiar, but he could not be certain. Clegg had taken his leave. Murdoch asked the Inspector if he could send a few constables to search the textile factory. He argued that he suspected the weapons business was harbored within a textile factory because that would explain the white cotton fibers found on Flate's and Lynch's clothing as well as the black ink found on the soles of their shoes. The Inspector said he would put in a call to a judge to see if he could authorize such a search.

Murdoch worked to add the new information to his blackboard. Crabtree knocked at the door, there was a call from Higgins. He had followed up on a hunch about the possible whereabouts of the Rodriguez's latest home. He believed he had found a crime scene. Even though there was no report of a body, Murdoch wanted Dr. Ogden to join them in investigating the scene.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Murdoch, Ogden, and Gulliver shared a carriage to the crime scene Higgins had called in. The trip was relatively long, taking them outside of Stationhouse #4's jurisdiction, and each of them was entertaining their own thoughts. Gulliver was reflecting on his actions propositioning Julia, and the resulting shame he felt. Knowing his own situation, he wasn't completely surprised by his feelings for her, but that they were so strong, that their intensity drove him to behave so irrationally surprised him. It turned out that he ended up admiring her even more, knowing now that she, a classy woman with a generous and empathic heart despite being a TOFF, had fallen in love with, and even married, a lowly copper, like himself. He sighed, but no one seemed to notice.

William struggled with how to tell Julia about the recently discovered clues that pointed towards the men's intentions to kill the children. He was very tempted not to tell her at all. He knew it would cause her immense worry, it had him…

Julia took a deep breath as she pulled herself out of her inner thoughts and asked, "So, did you find anything of interest at the house?" Her medical bag on her lap, she leaned forward to catch her husband's eye. Detective Gulliver also turned to look at Murdoch, wondering if he would reveal the scariest evidence to her or shield her from the news. William sighed. Julia prepared herself, knowing his facial expressions well enough by now to see his conflict. He dropped his eye and entertained his internal battle. It took too long, raising her apprehension. "William?" she pushed.

His decision already made, he pushed himself to tell her, figuring he would only disclose the actual evidence, not the conclusions he had drawn from it. He took a deep breath and lifted his face to meet hers, "Yes… We found shoeprints… And, um, we found a bullet in the wall," he said, trying to sound as unaffected as possible. "We might be able to match the striations …"

"A bullet?" she asked, interrupting him.

William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth – his "I'm sorry look," and nodded.

Julia's face began to wrinkle with fear, her voice taking on a slight squeakiness she asked, "In the wall?"

William started to answer her, "Yes, it was in the wall near …"

Julia looked outright panicked now as she speculated, "William, were they shooting at the children through the walls … they heard them, as they tried to escape in the secret passageways? Oh my God William, was there any blood?"

He took her face in his hands, assertively fixed his eyes to hers and reassured her, "No blood Julia. They got away. We know they got away. Claire-Marie was with them. She told us they got away – that William Jr. knew a place to go." He tenderly kissed her cheek, tears now rolling down it.

She was very upset, having to push to get her words out. Her voice telling that she was so terrorized that she was beside herself, she said, "But William, those men are out there right now looking for them … and …" her head dropped down as she fell towards his chest, seeking comfort in his arms. She inhaled a shaky breath, "And they are …" Unable to find comfort in his arms, sure there was nowhere to find comfort, she lifted her head back up and struggled to say her greatest fear, "Oh my God William, they are looking for the children to kill them!"

"Perhaps," he whispered. William took another deep breath, trying to channel her to do the same, to help her calm down. "But Julia, we are looking for them too. And we know a lot more about where they might go than these criminals do, hmm?" he said working to soothe her, and then tilting his head down below her face to catch her eye.

Julia leaned back and planted the back of her head into the carriage wall. She looked up to the heavens and breathed in deeply. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," she warned, her extreme degree of distress apparent.

"Not my chocolates," William said. To his great relief she giggled.

"No, not your chocolates," she said, the panic lessening in her voice. Keeping her head plastered back in the seat, finding comfort in the wall's rigid support, she took a breath and found his eyes with a sideways glance, "God I love you," she said.

"And I you," he replied, reaching up to cup her cheek with his hand and stroke a tear away with his thumb.

Gulliver marveled at the couple, touched by their honesty and care for each other. He knew it was something he had never known, not from his mother, nor anyone else in his life, and he knew, sadly, that he probably never would. " _Not in my cards,_ " he thought, before his mind moved forward to think about the case.

Higgins stood in front of the little cottage waiting for them to arrive. As they dismounted from the carriage he explained that he had thought to check for historical homes of the famous artist, Clavell, remembering that Carl Rodriguez believed he was Clavell reincarnated, and that Miss Dawes was actually his lover, Jane Kleet. The archives showed that Clavell lived here for a time. There was a lot of blood in the house – he figured this may be where Dawes, now Mrs. Rodriguez, was killed. Murdoch was truly very impressed with Henry's insight, memory and initiative, telling him so with a tip of his hat.

As he approached the house, Murdoch's stomach flipped over, being reminded of the inherent danger they faced as they investigated this, or any, crime scene under their current circumstances. The team was walking towards the door. He stopped, the others following suit. They needed to come up with a plan. Higgins had already entered, no booby-trap at the door. William looked to Julia, "Did you bring enough gloves for everyone?" he asked. She had and they all put gloves on before entering the home. Murdoch warned them to thoroughly investigate for trip wires or any other signs of foul play before opening any closets, etc.

Once inside, it was obvious that, assuming all this blood was human, someone, perhaps even two people, had been killed here. There were swathes of blood, suggesting a bloody body had been dragged and flung around. Blood splatter patterns on the walls and across parts of the floor suggested bludgeoning with an object, Julia speculated a bat by the sizes of the wounds on Dawes, if she was the victim here. William found chop marks on the floor. And a spot with a large pool of blood indicated that someone had died right there, bleeding out from either a gunshot wound, or maybe a knife wound. The chop marks led William to speculate that an axe had been used. Perhaps a body had been cut into smaller pieces.

Gulliver found multiple pieces of a body in an icebox in the basement. The head showed that it was the body of Mr. Rodriguez. Dr. Ogden stated that there was a bullet wound to the back of the head, the probable cause of death. Minimal blood around in the basement led her to suggest that the body had been chopped up elsewhere and then the pieces brought down to the icebox. The chop marks on the floor upstairs indicated that the body had been chopped up on the first floor. Dr. Ogden's best guess, based on the blood at the scene, was that Rodriguez had been shot before he was cut up. They later found both of the suspected implements used in committing the crime, a bloody bat and a bloody axe. No gun was found at the scene.

Murdoch asked the doctor about the time of death. Julia responded, "Well, of course, the cold temperature of the body in this case will make it hard to be certain – I won't be able to know how long he was left outside before he was put in the icebox. It is most likely that he died somewhere between three to six days ago. I am not sure I will be able to narrow it down more than that."

"So, it is conceivable then that he was killed on Sunday – the same time as Miss Dawes?" Murdoch asked.

Julia turned away from him. He watched as slowly her shoulders drooped and her body began to shake. She was crying, sobbing, weeping. Gulliver and Higgins looked at Murdoch, hoping for an explanation. William knew – knew that Julia was empathizing with the emotional pain of the two victims. How could he explain to these two men the significance of Miss Dawes' and Mr. Rodriguez's relationship to _**their**_ relationship? How could they possibly understand that, like Dawes and Rodriguez, he and his wife believed that they were meant to be together, no matter what the odds – that they, too, were soul-mates? Knowing they would not be able to fathom why she was so upset, he decided instead to be with Julia, to try his best to comfort her.

He took a deep breath and walked up behind her. He said softly, "Julia." Now with his presence so near, her strength drained away. She leaned back; fell backwards, into him, her crying intensifying. She sucked in a quivering breath before she tried to speak. His arms warmly, firmly, encircled her. "Oh William," she started, "they died together … I'm sure of it."

He turned her around to face him, providing the shoulder she needed to cry on. Gulliver and Higgins looked on, stunned by the scene, unable to bring themselves to look away.

"One of them was alive, watching, as the other one was killed," Julia continued, her voice high-pitched and her breathing troubled and rapid. She pulled back to hold eye contact with him for a moment. He was there, right there with her. Her face wrinkled and she collapsed into her despair again. "I only hope it was Rodriguez who was shot first," she said before she once again pulled some oxygen into her agonized lungs, and then …

With her falling back into his arms, shaking with her sobs, he finished her thought for her, "He wouldn't have had to witness the love of his life succumb to the brutalizing attacks." Somehow, she cried even harder, knowing she was not alone with the grief, knowing he was there to hold her. William breathed deeply and began to tenderly rock her body with his. He whispered in her ear, "Breathe." He took another breath, noticing she was still holding hers. "Take a breath Julia, hmm?" he said, calling her to respond. She did, the air catching severely in gaspy waves, only to be followed by the moaning sounds of her pain as she exhaled being gently muffled by his body. Once again, the strained inhalation, followed by the tortured sounds, each cycle lessening in severity. A few moments later, she was able to stop.

They separated enough to see each other. He handed her his handkerchief. "Thank you," she replied.

With a bow he responded, "You're very welcome." He would not try to explain what had happened to Gulliver and Higgins. They would not ask.

The carriage from the morgue showed up before they were done collecting all of the evidence from the scene, fingermarks, shoeprints, photos of blood-splatter patterns and more. Julia went back to the morgue to do the post-mortem. Murdoch, Gulliver and Higgins rode back to the station together. There was much evidence to discuss and their resulting conversation was lively.

Back at the station, the motel clerk from the Maramount Motel, where Jane had been staying before Connor likely beat her and took her captive, was waiting in the interrogation room for questioning. Once again, Murdoch noticed the excitement young Gulliver displayed at being able to watch him work. He was pleased with the man's enthusiasm for learning. He had been planning to have Gulliver go back to working with George to try to find a match to the bullet found in their wall, but the new detective's passion swayed his decision. He explained to Gulliver the importance of each piece of evidence he was placing into the folder that he would bring with him into the interrogation room. He had a solid plan in place, thus the evidence was arranged in a particular order within the folder.

Gulliver stood just outside the room, listening in intently as Murdoch ran through his plan. First, Murdoch showed the clerk Jane's picture and asked him whether he recognized her, which he did, and how long she had lived there, and to describe her visitors. He said that Jane was a doxie and many men visited. Yes there were regulars. He denied recognizing the photo and description of Connor. Murdoch had already told Gulliver that he believed the man had lied about this when he was first questioned.

Now Murdoch set his trap. Murdoch now knew that Lynch walked with a limp and further that Lynch was dead by Monday night on August 4th. Suspecting it was Connor who had knocked him out, then beaten and taken Jane captive, and then having had taken a badly injured Jane downstairs past the clerk before Clegg showed up to find Murdoch out on the floor, Murdoch showed the clerk a picture of Lynch and asked him if he recognized the man as a regular visitor of Jane's. The hardest part was not looking excited when the clerk took the bait, claiming that Lynch was the man who had "hurried Jane along" after Murdoch had gone up to meet with her. The clerk claimed that the photo of Clegg matched the man who went up to Jane's room after Mr. Lynch had supposedly taken Jane away. The clerk also said that it was Lynch who came back on Tuesday morning to remove Jane's belongings and informed him that Jane had moved out. Murdoch was certain now that he was lying, as Lynch was definitely dead by this time. Murdoch then asked the clerk if either of the men he recognized (Clegg or Lynch) walked with a limp. He responded 'no,' explaining that of course he had seen both men walk and neither of them limped.

The man folded immediately when Murdoch informed him he had been caught in a lie. He gave up that he did "know Connor" both by name and by reputation. He said he did not know the man's last name. He stressed that Connor was an extremely violent and dangerous man– all feared him – he was not mentally stable. He believed Connor worked and lived down at docks. He figured he most likely took Jane there. He admitted that he could tell Jane had been badly beaten when Connor dragged her out while Murdoch was still upstairs in her room. He even went so far as to say that he thought it was most likely that Murdoch had been killed and when Clegg showed up and went up to Jane's room Murdoch's dead body would be discovered.

Murdoch asked, "You claim that this 'Connor' is feared by all. Who else knows him?"

Fright covered the man's face. Murdoch thought it might be hard to get this out of him considering how scared the man looked. He would not relent; his children's lives were on the line. "Tell me who else knew this man!" he said, his teeth gritted, his determination apparent.

"He frequented the company of many of the girls before he took up with Jane. He was rough and possessive with them. They were all very relieved when he turned all of his attention to Jane," the clerk quickly blurted out. Then he warned, "I read the paper this morning, detective. I understand your children are missing – may have been abducted. Well, I've got to tell you, Murdoch … If Connor has them, they're as good as dead. The only reason they'd still be alive is cause he'd enjoy torturing 'em before he kills 'em, that's all."

A chill ran up his spine, but he kept his composure, masked his feelings. Murdoch told him he was free to go and the man practically ran out of the stationhouse.

Gulliver was very, very impressed with the interview. To be honest, Murdoch was too. It had gone very well, and now they had a new lead. Murdoch sent two constables with photos of Connor and Jane to the Maramount Motel to question the residents there about Connor. He put Gulliver back on bullet-matching duty with George. Then he went into his office to update the blackboard. Wanting to mull over all of the evidence, he sought to be alone. He instructed George only to bother him if it was important. His desk had become an eye-sore of disorganized piles of papers. He worked to clean off the desk, knowing the mess was leading him to distraction. Under the bottom of one of the piles he found the papers Julia had brought back with her from prison. There were all of the notes from the children and from him, one of the medical journals she must have decided to keep, and one of the newspapers he had brought for her. He noticed some writing on the front page of the newspaper. Deciding to ask her later if she still wanted these things, he put them aside and then returned his focus back to solving the case.

Next, William cleared off the worktable and then lay out all of the evidence, photos, reports, the bullet from his home, even the typewriter key and hatpin left in the hospital bathroom by Jane. Sitting on a stool at the worktable, his back to the door, he turned around when he heard his office door open. She noticed his look of disappointment and a healthy dose of worry fade away upon their eyes meeting. "Julia!" he happily cried out.

"You look to be working very hard," she answered, as she walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. "I thought I'd bring you some of my initial findings on the Rodriguez post-mortem," she said in his ear, somehow making the statement sound seductive. Her hands rubbed up across his stomach. He had taken his jacket off in the August heat and she enjoyed an opportunity to touch him without having to bother with getting under it. She was drawn to the taught, firm muscles she felt as she rubbed his stomach. He felt her breath ride over his ear as she said, "You must be starving."

"I haven't wanted to take the time to eat," he explained, now starting to return his focus on the clues before him.

She challenged his efforts, gliding her hands up higher to explore his chest through the vest. "I suggest that I go get us some sandwiches, hmm? Perhaps even buy some lunch for all the constables working so hard to help?" she said.

He agreed but added, "Before you go, what have you so far?"

She sat on the neighboring stool, enabling them to talk face-to-face. "I do think you will find this quite interesting William," she said. "Mr. Rodriguez most likely died from a gunshot to the head, but I have no bullet for you… it was removed…

"Just like with Mr. Lynch," William interrupted.

"Yes," Julia replied. "The dimensions of the two wounds were also similar – it looks like the same killer. And the size of the bullet is not common. I believe it to be quite small, perhaps a .12 caliber," she said.

"So, Isabel Webster is once again our prime suspect," William concluded.

"Yes, most likely," Julia agreed. "I'll have more for you later, but I'd thought you'd want to know as soon as possible," she explained.

"Yes. Thank you Julia… I wonder why she is so motivated to keep the bullet from us? Does she just want to protect herself from having such strong evidence against her as a bullet match, or does she have reason to believe we would be able to trace the particular gun if we had the bullet," he asked. "Perhaps she knows we have the bullet specifications from this gun in our records?!" he suggested.

Excited about the idea, he asked George to find someone to compile a list of all past crimes they have records for that were committed with a .12 caliber gun. Julia took lunch orders from everyone in the stationhouse, including the Inspector, explaining that it was their treat to minimally thank everybody for their dedication and help.

When Julia returned to his office with their lunch, William reminded George only to interrupt him if it was important. William and Julia pulled down the shades in his office to allow for some privacy. Gulliver and George shared a scandalous look with each other in response to the action. George explained that it was not very likely that he was planning on doing what Gulliver was thinking because the detective is too straight-laced for such things, especially in his workplace. Still, the two men couldn't help but laugh together at the thought.

Detective Gulliver said, "They do seem to be quite in love though. How long have they been married?"

George stood to reach over for another file and replied, "Well, their son is eight now, and they were married about two years before he was born … so I guess they've been married about ten years or so. The wedding was in May – I was the best man you know! … Oh yes, so that was probably their 11th anniversary, I think."

Working to appear only casually interested rather than obsessed, Gulliver asked, "How long did they court before they were married?"

George had a lot to say about this. He put the report down and started to tell the long, tumultuous tale of his mentor's relationship with the good doctor. " _It is our lunch-break after all,_ " he thought.

Gulliver hung on his every word. He was most interested when the topic of Darcy Garland came up, for in his memories and his fantasies, he had suspected that the engagement ring on Julia's finger did not belong to a police detective. No, a woman such as she would not have such a man as a fiancé. His jaw dropped upon learning that she had actually married the other man. He couldn't fathom how she and Murdoch ever got together after that had happened. George greatly enjoyed telling the story to someone who was so incredibly intrigued by it.

On the other side of the closed blinds, in Detective Murdoch's office, the couple sat on opposite sides of his desk, their lunch spread out before them, each leaning forward to get as close to the other as possible as they talked. Their conversation was lively. William asked if she had learned anything more about the children from her phone calls. Julia told him that the maître d at the Club said a man had come by asking if he could speak with any young children present at the Club, claiming he had found a teddy bear and was looking for the owner.

William raised an eyebrow, " _That's not good_ ," he thought. "When I was up in the girl's room I noticed that Chelsea's "Berry Bear" was missing. I had hoped she took it with her," he said. His face betrayed his feelings as worry and fear mixed with waves of sadness. The thought of the little child out there somewhere, without them, without the stuffed bear's ear to suck on when she was distressed – it hurt.

Julia shook her head and said, "I feel so invaded … this creepy, unsafe, perilous state of existence seems to permeate my whole being." She took a deep breath, she would remain in control. "William," she started, sounding as if she was changing the subject, "I'm sorry I fell apart at the crime scene, I, uh…"

He put his sandwich down and reached across the desk to take her hand. "Julia, don't … Don't berate yourself. We are going through extraordinary circumstances right now." He sighed and continued, "I'm just glad we are together to help each other through it."

She nodded. His encouragement tipped her decision to go back to the memory. She said, her eyes blue and magnetic holding him with their gaze, "I know I never said it at the time William, but I was strongly impacted by their story – the story of how Dawes and Rodriguez felt they were drawn together, in their case because of a shared past life together as lovers." She looked away, feeling suddenly shy about what she wanted to say. "I … I believed in some ways it was like us," she said, then lifting her head to catch his eye. He nodded, agreeing, and in doing so, sending her heart into warm joy. Julia smiled and his world lit up too. Julia looked back to her meal. Her mind traveled away from the happy connections to re-find the grief she had felt earlier in Clavell's home, in the Rodriguez's home. Keeping her eyes down she said, "I have always hoped we would die together William, so that neither of us would have to suffer the loss of the other… But now … Well now I see …" she took his eyes once again, urging him to understand with her, "that, for the sake of the children, that it would be better for one of us to survive." Her head dropped down again, but not before he saw her face wrinkle as she started to cry. After a shaky breath, she went on, "And so … now I hope …" her crying grew stronger, "that at least one of us survives." Another strained breath shook before she finished, "And I so much hope that whichever one of us it is, that they can be happy."

Offering her his second handkerchief of the day (she often wondered how he always came up with a clean one), "Yes, of course you're right," he gently said as he pushed one of her dangling curls out of her face.

A few moments later, she had recovered, and she thought out loud, "The orphanages kept turning us down, remember?" William nodded. "They said we had inappropriate jobs… I think they were right. Maybe we shouldn't have had children. Ours are so much more likely to have one or both of us die. And now, our jobs have even directly threatened their lives," she explained.

"Julia," he said trying to disagree.

"Really William? You don't think so? Just a few hours ago we evacuated the stationhouse while you defused a bomb," she argued.

He wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, he couldn't deny it. He took a deep breath and called her with his chocolate brown eyes, "Well Julia, what's done is done. And I don't regret for one minute having our children. You are right that they face more hazards than many others, but they are much loved, and even though this latest turn is awful, and believe me I know it is, they are happy. They are developing into good people," he said, taking her hand and demanding with his eyes.

"Yes," she answered.

As the conversation slowed, William's eyes fell to her papers on the corner of his desk. She followed his glance and remembered leaving them here after they returned from their "magnificent lunch" the day she got out of prison…

 **Suddenly** , out of the blue, a loud, " _ **Flutter – Flap – Thump,**_ " pounded against the window behind William. He startled, jumping out of his chair and knocking over the rest of his sandwich. Both of their eyes peered at the bottom of the window. Julia said, reassuringly, "It's just …"

William took a deep breath, feeling unavoidably ashamed by his over-reaction and said, "I see it. It's just a bird."

Julia stood as well, giving her a better view of the activity on the other side of the window and said, "Don't be embarrassed William. You have every right to be a bit jumpy with all we've been through."

They both sat back down. William wrapped the now-finished sandwich in the paper to throw it out. Julia felt compelled to study the bird, birds actually, more closely. He noticed her still watching them and said, "They have been doing that for a while now, always about this time of day."

"They were here this morning too," Julia added. "They seem to go away and then come back," she stated. She stood up, began to step around the desk towards the window and said, her voice full of the awe one feels when they are discovering something important, "And they're not just _**birds**_ William … They're pi..."

"Pigeons!" William exclaimed.

"Harry! … William! The children went to Harry!" Julia nearly screamed she was so excited. They stood together at the window looking at the five or six pigeons on the other side drifting around looking for food and chasing each other about. "Look William! That one has a message!" Julia declared, pointing to the leg of one of the pigeons that had a pink paper wrapped around its lower leg, just above its foot.

"We need to catch it!" William said. He started to lift the window up to open it.

Julia touched his arm, "Wait William," she said, "I worked with the pigeons a little when we visited Harry. They are very skittish." Their eyes met as he listened for her instructions. She took a deep breath, he followed suit. They needed to calm down. "Slowly William," she said. He lifted the window very carefully. Fortunately the birds seemed little bothered. Julia quietly and calmly climbed out to stand on the ground with the pigeons outside. She explained, more for herself than him, "I need to approach from the front, keeping my body low, and very slowly bring my hands together…" Seemingly very easily, she had the pigeon with the pink note in her hands. He held her elbow as she crawled back inside. "I'll hold it, you take off the note," she said.

He firmly took hold of the bird's foot, below the note, and began to unravel it. He said, "Don't let it defecate in my office please."

Julia scowled at him playfully, "And how do you propose I do that?" she asked, enjoying a giggle when their eyes met and his expression offered an apology. Quickly the note was free and William unwrinkled the small, pink paper.

Julia's eyes grew wide as she declared, "It's William Jr.'s handwriting!"

"3 Safe. Advise," William read. The relief pumping through them was so strong it bordered on dizziness. Still holding the pigeon, Julia sat on the window ledge.

"William, Harry didn't have a phone, so we can't call…"

" _Of course,_ " William thought.

Her voice rose in pitch with her excitement, "Let's go get them!" she urged, "I know where it is." She could tell he had another plan in mind.

He shook his head and reasoned, "I don't think that's best … We could tell them to stay there, but someone might eventually find Harry, he is my father and he has the same last name. What did he name his business anyway?"

Julia wrinkled her mouth showing her disappointment and answered, "Murdoch Aerial Communications."

William tried to hide it but he felt a twinge of fear as he thought, " _Oh great! They probably already found it. This note could have been on the bird since last night._ " He sighed and continued, "We had a plan in place for emergencies, and this is still an emergency, no?" He looked to see that she agreed. "We should get them to Judith's right away," he concluded out loud.

They used a small, yellow paper for their note, figuring it would be most obvious to Harry and the children that the pigeon carried a response. They wrote Judith's phone # and first name, and then instructed them to go there as soon as possible, but urging for keeping the children out of sight or disguising them. Their note requested a reply once they got to Judith's so they would know they were safe. "Harry will probably not have money for the cab; it is pretty far … I spent most of mine on the flowers and chocolates …"

Julia looked at her purse on the worktable and said, "I have some." William took all of the money she had, sixty dollars, and wrapped it up in the yellow note. He put the note on the pigeon's same leg that had held the pink note and he held Julia as she leaned out the window to gently place the pigeon back down to the ground. They decided to feed the birds the leftovers from William's sandwich.

They held each other in an embrace, feeling the hope flow once again between them. Julia used William's phone and called Judith, being able to get her as her workday had finished a little early. The plan was set. They agreed to keep the news about the children a secret. Julia went back to the morgue to finish the post-mortem on Rodriguez.

Harry closed the door behind him and called out, "It's alright… It's me, your dear old Granddad, and I've got food!" The children had been hiding from the moment they heard the big front doors to the building open. They came out and rushed to their grandfather. William Jr. took the bag of groceries from his arms and asked, "Do you think anybody followed you, Granddad?"

"No boy. I kept an eye out. Nobody was payin' much attention to an old man like me. Nobody around once I tuned down this block. We're safe," Harry said as he reached down to lift Chelsea up into his arms. "Let's make some meatloaf … You're gonna love it; it's my specialty!"

They sat around Harry's desk which had been converted into their table. Katie placed a glass of water down for each of them and joined them to eat. William Jr. asked, "Grandpa, Dad said you drank too much, but I haven't seen you drink anything at all. Did you stop?"

Harry took a deep breath and then took a sip of his water, stalling to think about how to reply. He scratched his prickly chin and explained, "Now your father is tellin' you the truth there … But he wouldn't know how much I want to be a good grandfather to you children. And I'm gonna make sure that whenever I'm with you young'uns I don't drink even a drop of liquor." He paused before adding, "Besides, can't spend money on liquor if you need food on the table, heh?" William Jr. nodded. Once they'd finished, Harry reminded them that they agreed to help with the pigeons. The children were excited to do so, looking forward to a break in the boredom of hiding out in the tiny apartment.

They all went up on the roof. William Jr. began to clean the bottoms of the cages while Katie and Chelsea worked together to empty, clean and refill the water dishes. Katie noticed it first, the new, yellow note. "Look!" she exclaimed, "A new note!"

Everyone ran over to see. "Do you think it's from Mom and Dad?" William Jr. asked eagerly.

Their grandpa remained calm, not wanting to see the children get disappointed. He said, "Well, we won't know till we get the note." He reached in and caught the pigeon. Being an expert at working with the birds, he removed the note and then returned the bird. He closed the cage and the opened-up the note; the money fell to the floor and, with eyes bugging out of his head, he quickly bent down to pick it up.

"Money!" Katie cried out. "It is from Mommy and Daddy!" she concluded, bouncing up and down with anticipation.

"Now, now. We don't know that yet," Harry said. He held the note a-ways from his eyes and read it to the children, first hearing the good news himself as he read it. He devised a plan. They would travel to "Judith's" house in his buckboard wagon. They'd put rows of pigeon-cages along the edges, so that's all people could see, and the children would be hiding away in the middle of all those cages. That way, they could give all the money to Judith to help care for the children until their parents could come get them. Harry planned on stopping to call Judith once he was out of town, making it less likely someone would overhear the conversation. They left immediately after the birds were cared for.

Julia and Miss James were working diligently, nearing the finish of the post-mortem. Julia had shared with her the unique relationship their two victims had had, and thus, when they discovered that Dawes and Rodriguez had eaten the same last meal, Miss James could share in Julia's mixture of happiness and grief.

The phone rang and Julia went to get it. It was a doctor friend of hers that worked at York General Hospital. He had a patient who he had thought had been asking for "more doc," but the nurse insisted that the man was asking for Julia's husband, "Murdoch." The man explained that he believed this particular nurse was somewhat obsessed with Julia and particularly her husband, following every story in the newspaper about them and telling anyone who would listen about their latest troubles of adventures. Julia asked for a physical description of the man. She was told he had been beaten very badly but he was short, older-middle-aged with light-brown greying hair. He had come in with no identification and he still was not speaking. He had been there for three days. Julia recognized the description as fitting that of Mr. Clegg. She told the doctor she would alert her husband immediately and that he should expect him soon. Excitedly she called out to Miss James before she walked out the side door of the morgue, "I'll be right back. I have some good news for my husband."

The door banged shut right before she gasped. Her assailant had been waiting behind the door, unseen. Julia had been grabbed from behind, her mouth held silent, a knife to her throat. She could see, parked along the side of the morgue, that a single-horse buckboard labeled "Ice Delivery" had been backed in, out of view from the street. She was walked to the back of the buckboard and shoved towards the edge. Up on the buckboard she saw a very large steamer trunk, and she knew the assailant's intentions were to get her in that trunk. She pretended to step-up as if to crawl aboard, but once she began to lift herself upwards, the knife moved from her neck and she took her chance, diving backwards with all her might, hoping to throw the person behind her off-balance. It worked, briefly. Their eyes met. Julia called out, "You!" just before the blow came. Not knocked unconscious, but certainly disabled, Julia wobbled and then fell to the floor. She was manhandled. She thought to dislodge one of her shoes before she climbed aboard the buckboard. She was gagged and her hands were bound in front of her. She cooperated and lay down in the trunk. Even so, the assailant covered her nose and mouth with a cloth and she recognized the smell of chloroform before everything went dark.

Detective Murdoch sat at his desk looking through some of the files for a match to the .38 caliber bullet found in their home, wanting to do something to distract himself from his disappointment that the only thing that turned up from questioning the women at the Maramount Motel was that Connor was violent and likely insane and that he was from down on the docks. The phone rang, the timing seemed right and he was hoping it was the children and they had made it to Judith's house. It was! They were there. They were safe. Harry had driven them all the way up there and was now on his way back into the city. William spoke to each child, each one of them breaking down into tears at the sound of their father's voice. He told them how very proud of them he was and that he loved them and missed them, but he knew it would still be a little more time that they needed to hide out before they would be able to see each other. He told them to be good. He said he was going to go see if Mommy could call them back and talk to them too. William hung up the phone, threw on his hat, and headed directly over to the morgue.

William entered the morgue through the front door. "Julia!" he called out, before he rounded the corner and spotted Miss James working in the theater.

"She went to see you!?" Miss James exclaimed, "She's not here."

Dread took him quickly. Something was definitely wrong. Miss James saw it on his face; she instantly joined him with worry. Panic in his eyes he asked, "When did she …"

"Probably about an hour ago," she answered. Her eyes drifted to the side door Julia had left through; William's eyes bolted there after hers.

He ran for the door, Miss James on his heels. The hum in his ears grew loud and a darkening tunnel formed around the edges of his vision. He was nauseous and dizzy, and his eyes were glued on the object that sunk his heart into certainty that she was gone – her shoe. By the time he held Julia's shoe in his hand, tears flowed down his cheeks. He couldn't think. William looked at Miss James with desperation in his eyes.

"I'll call the station… Get the Inspector," she offered. She quickly went back inside.

By the time the Inspector, Detective Gulliver, and Constable Crabtree arrived, William had regained some self-control. He had sent Miss James to get a measuring tape to determine the size of the wheel-span of the carriage or cart that had been pulled in along-side of the morgue. He had already determined that there was only one horse hitched to it.

Detective Gulliver thought to go ask if anyone had seen anything. Crabtree joined him to contact as many people as possible. They returned to say that a constable had seen a buckboard parked there. It was labeled as an ice-delivery vehicle, so the constable simply figured the morgue was getting an ice delivery. When he saw it there was no one around it. It was grey with red wheels and trim. He did not remember if there was a name of the ice company.

The Inspector recommended that they contact the press and get them to report her as missing and likely abducted. William had a photo they could use, but most papers already had a photo of Julia on file. They asked the reporters help them to find the children as well. He also thought to send constables immediately to all of the ice companies in Toronto with the description of the buckboard. Unfortunately, it was getting late, and many of them would be closed.

Back in the station, the Inspector offered William a drink. He declined; he wanted to have his wits about him as much as possible. It started to rain.

Meanwhile, Julia lay unconscious in the trunk as the buckboard rattled along on a road on the outskirts of town. The sun was low in the sky. In her mind's eye she dreamed. It was probably the smell of the chloroform that set the tone. She was sitting on their dining-room table, in their brand-new house, leaning back against William who sat behind her. She was in labor with their first child. She was hysterical with fear because she needed a Cesarean section to survive and they were trapped here in a snowstorm. They couldn't get to a hospital and no doctor could get to her. William was calm, reassuring. They would find a way. She would not die. (Subsequently, she had taught William how to perform the surgery and he had used her medical supplies, including the chloroform, to render her unconscious, and delivered William Jr. himself).

The buckboard hit a particularly big bump and Julia was shaken into a woozy consciousness. First noticing her bound hands and her gagged mouth, then the small space she was confined in, her memory seeped back and she knew where she was and what had happened. Quickly her mind raced to catch up to the present. She was still moving, on a road. She heard rain pounding on the trunk. She had to get away. She threw herself upwards against the sides of the trunk, eventually bringing it to an upright position, so her feet, which she noticed at this point were bare, were on the floor. With all her might she surged her shoulder towards the back of the trunk, flinging it into a flip that took it overboard. It bounced and flipped, eventually coming to a halt after rolling off of the road and down an incline. In the fall, Julia had hit her head, blackness once again filling her. The buckboard continued on, the driver unaware of her escape. Of course, if she couldn't get out of the trunk, it might not be much of an escape – she would die, unseen on the side of this country road, thirsty and hungry and heartbroken, locked away and possibly never found, alone in this trunk.

 _ **They were in the heart of the storm now, danger all around. And yet it was quiet, deafeningly still. It seemed there was nothing to do until the eye-of-the-storm passed, and the wind picked back up, and the rain pounded, and the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared. Neither of them knew a greater stress than facing the impending death of the other, and facing it alone, without the other. Time seemed to have paused, and yet its preciousness was emphasized as it threatened to run out. The hardest thing of all was to not give up hope.**_


	13. Chapter 13

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 13: Thursday, August 14, 1913

The pudgy older woman paused at the newspaper stand, reading the headlines for the day. The Toronto Gazette particularly caught her eye. There were two headlines above the fold, both were about her mistress. The first headline read, " _ **Toronto's Cinderella: Detective Husband Finds Shoe After Julia Ogden Abducted**_." The second headline added, " _ **Dr. Ogden Faces Gallows Again: Suffragist Leader Had Abortion**_." Eloise's heart raced as much as it sunk. How was it possible for one couple to undergo so many disasters in their lifetimes? Below the fold, still on the first page, there was an article with pictures of the three Murdoch children, urging for anyone seeing them to notify the Constabulary. " _Really, could the news get any worse_?" she thought. She purchased the paper out of habit, even though the man she bought it for would not be home today. As she tucked the paper under her arm she decided that she would cook the detective a breakfast anyway, and then bring it to him at stationhouse #4. Ever since the first time she had met William Murdoch she had found a place in her heart for him, and that place was now hurting. " _A warm breakfast and a sympathetic heart could do him good_ ," she thought.

The Inspector, Detective Gulliver and Constable Crabtree stood together in the bullpen, all eyes on Detective Murdoch who had fallen asleep at the worktable in his office. "Poor bugger," the Inspector said.

Crabtree sadly added, "It just breaks my heart sir. There's never been a finer man. Sometimes I wonder how he survives it all."

The new detective also felt badly for his mentor, but he knew that the best thing they could do for him was to get moving on finding who had taken Julia. Trying to sound optimistic he said, "George, let's head out to the ice companies now. I believe they will have opened early."

The Inspector stood up taller and said, "Good thinking Gulliver. All this moping about isn't going to help anybody." The two men grabbed their hats and headed out. The Inspector looked back at Murdoch, feeling the pain re-take his heart. He decided to let him sleep a little longer and went into his office.

Julia had come-to a couple of hours ago. The searing pain in her head and her neck served to remind her where she was, and how she had gotten there, despite the darkness. She lay still in the trunk, forcing her focus away from the hurts, the nausea, and the fear, to hone in on detecting any human movement outside of the trunk. She had heard a carriage go by a few minutes ago. She figured she was about twenty feet away from the road. Yelling and pounding on the trunk would be futile, she reasoned, because the noise of being in the vehicle, the hoof-beats and rattling, would drown out even the loudest sounds she could make. She wondered if the sun had come up and she couldn't tell because of the tight seals along the seams of the trunk. " _Time will tell_ ," she thought.

Her attention drifted back to her immediate environment, having decided that even if there were people about, she could do nothing to alert them to her peril. Her hands were bound, but she was able to move her wrists enough to feel that she was still wearing her watchlet, although it was no longer making a ticking sound. It either broke in the fall or needed to be wound. Suddenly she remembered her purse. " _Is it still there?"_ she thought, hope surging through her. She lifted her arms and gasped with eager relief as she felt the string attached around her wrist pull taught. "Yes!" she thought, quickly wiggling and shifting to try to free it from underneath her body. The pearl-handled pocketknife William had given her was in there. It would be a challenge, but if she could get to it, she could probably …

His dreams had consisted mostly of memories at first _. Julia with her head pressed back against the carriage, glancing sideways at him and saying, "God I love you;" Then, he was walking back into the bedroom to hear Katie ask her, "Then why do you and Daddy make love?"_ This one prompted him to stir in his sleep as he raised an eyebrow slightly and started to blush, some of the signals hazily making it out of his brain to stimulate his body. _Next, they were in the shower together, her back to him and he could feel her soapy skin sliding lusciously under his hands, her backside gliding along his stomach and chest as he lowered himself and moved in closer._ But then, unrealistic elements began to appear. _Julia shrunken down in size, trapped in an hour glass as Sally Pendrick dangled it over an open flame, torturing her, threatening her life, and then laughing as she somehow changed into Eva Pearce while James Pendrick was flying overhead in a dirigible, shooting at the tiny timepiece which imprisoned Julia in Eva's hand, thinking he could break the glass to free Julia without accidently killing her. William ran, yelling for Pendrick to stop,_ again stirring in his sleep as his leg actually kicked and his throat mumbled out a sound _. He stumbled over a pigeon, fell to the ground. He looked back at the bird. There was a message on its leg. He opened the note and heard Julia's voice read the words to him, "Look in the paper William." He looked back to the fire, to see if Julia was still alive. Now just a smoldering pile of ash, there was no one there – she was gone. He fell to his knees, tears took his eyes and sobs took his throat. It was the sobbing that awoke him._

He grounded quickly, remembering where he was, why he had fallen asleep there. At first his memories consisted of merely facts, " _The children are safe at Judith's. Julia is missing – maybe already dead._ " Emotions were absent. His neck hurt from the awkward position he had been slumped into at the worktable. The pain sunk away as anger percolated up into his awareness. It grew stronger and stronger at an exponential rate. He stood up, walked to the window. It was morning, but the pigeons were not there. " _It's after eight o'clock_ ," he thought. He knew they would be back later, around two or three. He tried to push the rage away, taking a deep breath, telling himself to focus on the clues. Suddenly, as if it were the action of someone else, he punched the wall, surprising himself with the sound, becoming even more furious when feeling the surge of pain. He gritted his teeth together with such force that he thought they might crack. Refusing to nurse the hand, he turned to find his bag. He had packed another set of undergarments. He would prepare for the day.

Murdoch walked out of the constabulary bathroom feeling better. He picked up his messages and headed back to his office, noticing that Gulliver and Crabtree were not there. Taking a seat at his desk, he read his first message. It was from Dr. Tash; it said to please call. He did so, getting the doctor's secretary on the phone first, he let her know who he was and waited.

Tash's voice sounded harried, stressed, "Yes detective, um William. I just wanted to try to explain… About what the papers are saying.

William felt at a disadvantage; he hadn't yet read the newspaper. " _Is Tash related to Julia being missing?_ " he thought. William cleared his throat, his throat still dry from sleeping and said, "I'm sorry doctor, I haven't seen the paper yet this morning. Explain … what are you sorry about?

"Oh … Oh my, well, the papers are reporting that Julia had … an abortion … They are saying that it is _**my files**_ that hold the proof…" he explained, guilt dripping off of his voice.

William was clearly thrown off by the news. His mind rushed to the likely consequences; Julia, if she was alive, would face another trial… another hanging.

The silence lasted too long and Tash grew anxious. "Um, William … I'm so sorry. It seems that when my office was broken into on Tuesday night, that it was my files on Julia that they were after," he continued.

Finally William pushed a sound out of his throat, "Oh. I see."

Tash went on, "I hadn't noticed that her files were missing, until after I saw the newspapers and then came down to check."

After a moment Tash said, "I'm afraid they are quite damning. I think she is in trouble…"

William took a deep breath and replied, "Yes." Then he asked, "Were any other files taken?"

"No," Tash replied.

William sighed and then asked, "Are you aware that she has been abducted …" He had to pause, he was beginning to choke-up. Unable to hide his distress he continued, "That she might already be dead." William's forehead wrinkled as he fought back tears. He reached up and rubbed it, trying to soothe himself.

Isaac's heart broke for the man. Of course he loved Julia himself, but he knew that he felt nothing like the pain and terror that Julia's husband was going through. His compassion was tugged – hard. "Yes, the papers are reporting that too … And that your children are still missing. I'm so, so sorry William. Is there anything I can do to help?"

William's head was too flustered, too overwhelmed, to think clearly. He said he would call back later after he had some time to think. He hung up the phone and felt frozen with shock. His eyes locked on the message to call Tash. How could he make this right? Could they ever be safe, be in the clear?

There was a knock on his doorframe. He looked up to see Eloise standing there with a picnic basket on her arm and a warm, sympathetic smile on her face.

William hurried to stand and greet her, "Eloise! What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

His authentic appreciation for her kind action was there; it was obvious. But she had seen it – before he had looked up and seen her; she had seen his despair. She swallowed, pushing down the burning in her chest as it welled upwards to overtake her throat and her eyes. She wanted to be strong for him. "Well detective," she said before taking a deep breath to calm herself more, "I thought you would probably have been too busy trying to save everybody to eat." She smiled at him.

William swallowed. He too was struggling to keep his emotions under control. He had an urge to fall into the woman's arms and weep. Another deep breath, then he replied, "Well, I have to say you are right about that Eloise. I am completely famished," he said while placing his hand on his stomach. He stepped back and opened his arm to invite her towards his desk (the worktable was still covered with clues from the case). He asked her to sit with him and she even had a little bit of the food she had packed. Without directly addressing how he was feeling – truly there was no need, she knew and he knew she knew, they talked about relevant things. He let her know, with a wink to signify the secrecy of the information, that the children were actually safe, but as the papers had supposedly said, Julia was not. She gave him the paper she had brought, suggesting he look it over after she left, for she knew that seeing the words typed on the page would crash the dire reality of the situation severely into his consciousness and she knew he would prefer to be alone when that happened.

He felt better after her visit. He thanked her and she left. He returned to his desk and sighed. He heard Julia's voice in his head, from the dream he had had earlier, " _Look in the paper William._ " He lifted the paper. " _Well, the girls would have liked to Cinderella part,"_ he thought as he thanked himself for thinking to tell Claire-Marie, before she left to go join Judith and the children, to make sure to keep the papers away from the children. He was truly glad they would not see this. He only had to lift his eyes and change his focus to see it on the worktable – Julia's shoe. For the briefest moment he entertained the idea of being like Prince Charming and searching house by house for her. The world had gotten too big; such an action now would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. He stayed with the analogy a moment, asking himself what better ways there could be to find the needle. He thought of using a powerful magnet – a way to use the special characteristics of the needle that were _**different from**_ the stalks of hay, to separate the needle from all of the other strands. In reality, his magnets were the clues, and he had to get back to them.

He went to the bullpen and asked where Gulliver and Crabtree had gone. He was told they were out checking ice companies for the grey and red buckboard. "Good," he said. And let's get back to those .38 caliber striation patterns and our files, as well as the .12 caliber records (because two of the victims had bullet wounds suggesting the use of a .12 caliber gun)," he instructed the constable. They got right to the work. The lads would do just about anything for the detective.

Before he went to talk to the Inspector he had decided he needed to talk with Tash. He wanted to lie… He wanted to save Julia from the noose before it got so close this time. He didn't even notice that he had stopped adding the caveat, " _If she's still alive_." He was working on the premise that she was. He would no longer stop to think she might be dead. He closed the office door and pulled the blinds. He called Tash.

William told Isaac his idea – to have Julia claim that the baby's father had forced her to have the abortion. He needed Isaac's help. He needed the name of a man from Julia's past who would not be harmed by such a lie. Perhaps someone who was dead and who had no survivors – no wife, no children? Isaac had two possible men in mind, of course neither was actually the father. William asked him if he would be willing to research the men's current situations. He explained that he would likely be under much scrutiny, both as Julia's husband and as an acting detective in the constabulary, whereas Isaac would probably not be. Isaac agreed and told him he would get back to him as soon as he knew. After he hung up the phone, William marveled at how much he had come to depend on the man. He really had considered turning him in for procuring abortions. How much he himself had changed, now planning on lying under oath if necessary… " _No time to think about it now_ ," he thought.

As he walked to the Inspector's office he saw that Meyers was in there as well. He wondered if the Inspector had told him that they had found that Clegg was asking around the docks about Jane. He knocked on the door and the two men turned. Their looks showed their concern for him, but there was something more, more like dread.

"Morning Murdoch," Meyers said with a puff on his cigar.

William nodded, "Mr. Meyers," he replied.

The Inspector signaled at a chair and said, "Have a seat Murdoch." William sat, the two other men sitting as well. The Inspector continued, "Well I guess I'll get right to it," he said looking at Meyers for approval. "Have you seen the morning papers detective?" he asked.

William nodded, "Yes, my housekeeper brought one by with some breakfast," he said, suddenly regretting his statement as it drew attention to his wealth as a result of marrying Julia. Fortunately, it seemed the other two men were more focused on whatever bad news they had to tell him than on teasing him for marrying into wealth.

Meyers leaned forward in his chair and asked, "So you know about the charges against Julia that she had an abortion then?"

William found he still cringed when Meyers used Julia's given name. If he had had time he would have lectured himself about how absolutely silly it was to continue to be jealous of their relationship, but now was certainly not the time. "Yes." He replied. He looked to the Inspector, there was obviously more. The moment he said it, said the man's name, the blood drained out of William's face …

"Chief Inspector Davis…" the Inspector paused to take a deep breath, knowing the impact would be great and that Murdoch was already anticipating what was coming, "… He wants Dr. Ogden arrested and charged with murder."

" _Oh my God! Not again! I can't believe this is going to happen again_ ," the thoughts swirled in William's brain.

The Inspector walked to the cupboard and took out his bottle of scotch. Murdoch needed a moment to recover, and besides, maybe this news was bad enough that even the teetotaler would want a drink. He said, as he tipped the bottle to Meyers and got a nod yes, "Sorry me ole' mucker," he tipped the bottle towards the detective, "Drink?"

"Uh, no sir. Thank you … I want to keep my head clear," William answered. " _At least as clear as possible_ ," he thought.

The Inspector went back to the bad news, "Davis wants us to bring Dr. Tash in for questioning … To determine whether, as Meyers and I have just been arguing with him … to find out if this is all just another part of the same set of attacks we've all been under. We need to know if the information in those files is true."

William nodded, waiting for more.

"Davis knows, as would anyone who reads the papers, that Tash is a friend of the good doctor's so he figures he might lie to protect her. He is working to get a judge to allow seizure of all of Tash's files … to compare handwriting and style of data entry and such."

"He's out for blood Murdoch," Meyers added.

There was a knock at the door. Constable Higgins stood there with a huge grin on his face. The Inspector barked, "Don't just stand there Higgins – spit it out!"

Higgins caught Murdoch's eye, "Sir, we found a match to the .38 caliber bullet from your home,"

William was having trouble remembering feeling hopeful until that moment. A smile grew on his face and he asked, "Magnificent! Who did the gun belong to?"

"Remember the Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kids wannabes," the constable asked, waiting for Murdoch to nod, "It was one of them, either Ed or Hoyt Obannon sir."

The Inspector gave Henry a slap on the back and congratulated him on his good work. Then he told him to get to work on finding the two men and figuring whether or not one of them still has the gun, and if not, then find out who does.

Murdoch reached the Inspector's door and then stopped and turned to face Meyers and said, "Oh, Mr. Meyers, we found out that Mr. Clegg was down at the docks asking about a doxie, showing a photograph of Jane. He was last seen three days ago. Perhaps he found something – got himself into trouble?"

Meyers inhaled on his cigar once more and then replied, "Perhaps… He was quite smitten with his spy. He might have been irrational, ruled more by his emotions than his reason."

Murdoch nodded in agreement. "I'll have one of the lads check the hospitals," he thought out loud.

As Murdoch passed through the bullpen, he asked Higgins to assign someone to bring Mr. Clegg's and Jane's photos and check the hospitals for them. He also wanted to know how it was going compiling a list of people from the files that they had records of using the smaller gun, the .12 caliber. Higgins retrieved the list they had so far from Constable Jackson. William took it into his office to look it over.

The list largely consisted of women, which did not surprise Murdoch for such a small gun. And, of course his prime suspect in these murders, Isabel Webster, was also a woman, so it made sense and he figured made it more likely that one of these women used to own the gun Webster was now using. He noticed that neither Eva Pearce nor Sally Hubbard (AKA Sally Pendrick) were on the list. Truth be told he was glad of it, though he reminded himself that the list was not yet complete.

Detective Gulliver returned with word from the larger ice companies. Giving Detective Murdoch the news, he explained, "One of the ice companies, Belle Ewart, pays their delivery men cash, and as such they do not keep a record of any of their names. However, the manager recognized the description of the grey buckboard with red trim." He smiled when he saw Murdoch's reaction; they were getting closer; it was a relief. "Constable Crabtree agreed to stay back at the place to keep an eye out for the man's return," Gulliver added.

"Good," Murdock said, "Very good." Murdoch informed Gulliver about their having found the men, brothers actually, who had used the same gun that shot the bullet into his wall, about ten years ago, when they robbed a bank. He elaborated, adding that the brothers had posed as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. He asked Detective Gulliver to help Higgins try to track them down. Murdoch went back to working on locating the people on the list who had previously been arrested and used a .12 caliber gun.

Constable Jackson knocked on Murdoch's doorframe. "There's a call about a body sir…"

It was not until that very moment that William realized that Julia would also be missed in her professional capacity as well. His eyes met Jackson's; he could tell there was more.

"Sir … It's a female, blond hair and light blue dress," he added, knowing the description fit that of Murdoch's wife and what she was wearing when she had been abducted. "I'm sorry sir …"

"Where?!" William said, hat already in hand.

"Smalls Pond," the constable answered.

"Tell the Inspector," William yelled as he ran out of the stationhouse and hailed a cab. Detective Gulliver chased after him and hopped into the cab with him.

When they arrived at the pond, they spotted a young man with a fishing pole pacing nervously. They asked if he had seen the body and he said yes and pointed, saying it was out at the end of the dock. The two detectives bolted in that direction, with Gulliver instructing the man to stay there and show the others that would follow which way to go.

Murdoch was in the lead and saw the dock up ahead. Gulliver was only a few yards behind. As soon as he saw the dock he thought about the possibility that it was a trap. He called out to Murdoch to wait, but the man didn't even slow down. Gulliver tried to keep up, but started looking around for danger as well.

He saw her, floating face down, the blond hair in her bun and her blue dress filling and dropping as the waves softly rippled towards the shore. William's legs took him even faster now, despite the fact that he could not breathe. The wooden dock under his feet pounded rhythmically as he ran down it. " _No! It can't be! … Julia NO!_ " his brain yelled. "Julia!" he called out, with desperation and panic in his voice. "Julia PLEASE!" he screamed out as he jumped into the water. As William came back up to the surface and moved to the body, two opposing thoughts flowed through his mind at the same time – Julia was dead, he was about to see her face; And the body didn't move as it should while the waves created by his impact with the water flowed under it. By the time Detective Gulliver stood at the end of the dock, they could both see that it was a fake body. It was a mannequin in a blue dress and a wig. Relief surged through William's body, the effects of the adrenalin wearing off, causing his legs and arms to feel as if they weighed hundreds of pounds. Detective Gulliver offered him a hand and he climbed back up on the dock.

As he put his Homburg back on his head, William said, "I think it's a trap." Both men turned to check their periphery and the shot rang out from the brush back on the shore. William's hat went flying – he was not hit, but it was much too close for comfort. Just as both men dropped down to the deck, Constables Clark and Brown rushed onto the scene. Having heard the shot they took cover and drew their guns. The Inspector and Constable Jackson were close behind. The assailant took flight – Brown and Clark could each see it was a woman. They took up pursuit. They caught her – Isabel Webster was in custody!

At her arrest, Isabel Webster had a rifle that had likely been used to fire the shot at Murdoch, as well as a small .12 caliber pistol in her purse. She was also carrying a bullet extractor – Murdoch needed to explain to everyone what it was. He gathered these items and many others together in his office as he prepared for the interrogation.

Serving as a teacher, he explained to his mentee, Detective Gulliver, what he planned to use each item for as he questioned Miss Webster. He placed the evidence in a very specific order in the file folder. Included were photographs of the victims, Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez, Mr. Lynch, and the coroner, Dr. Reynolds. Also there were photographs of the bullet wounds to the heads of Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Lynch, the aconite-poisoned knife-blade that was in Mr. Lynch's body, the fingerprint that matched Miss Webster's on Lynch's button, Miss Ward (the woman who Webster had impersonated to escape from prison), the gun-firing mechanism used in an attempt to kill himself and Julia, the bomb sent in the package addressed to the Inspector, and a photo of the Inspector's bombed house, and photos of Connor and Jane. He would also use Miss Webster's file from the past, from over ten years ago when she admitted to killing Miss Dawes' fiancée.

Miss Webster addressed Detective Murdoch immediately as he entered the interview room, "So, detective, we meet again." Brackenreid, Gulliver, and Crabtree watched from the other side of the screen.

Murdoch took a seat as he responded, "Miss Webster."

She leaned forward and said, pretending to whisper her secret, "The longer you keep me locked up in here, the more likely your wife dies."

Murdoch held the eye contact, his demeanor not changing one iota. "Is that so Miss Webster?" he asked, giving nothing, leaving her room to tell him more.

"She is locked away somewhere tight and dark, with no water or food. Only I know where she is… She stands a chance if you let me go – now," she explained.

Murdoch interlaced his fingers in front of himself, over the file full of evidence and said, imitating her secret-telling body posture, "Miss Webster, you do _**not**_ know where Dr. Ogden is." He waited, reading her reaction. "You see, we faked her abduction to draw you out – to trap you," he continued. In response to that, she wiggled and squirmed, her ace-in-the-hole rendered useless. "Now," Murdoch continued, "I would like you to tell me whether or not you killed Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez."

Isabel Webster admitted to killing Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez and Mr. Lynch. She admitted to placing the poisoned knife-blade in Mr. Lynch's body with the intention of killing Dr. Ogden. She explained that she believed that Dr. Ogden would be released from prison earlier than everyone thought and would end up being the coroner to work on Lynch. She denied setting the booby-trap surrounding Mrs. Rodriguez's body used in an attempt to kill Ogden and him as well, claiming someone else must have removed Mrs. Rodriguez's body from the cottage where she killed her and used it for the trap. (This denial disappointed Murdoch, for it was through this particular crime that he would have been able to link Miss Webster to Connor). She denied knowing anything about the abduction of his children or the bombing of the Inspector's house. She claimed she had no idea what the bomb in the photograph was, and certainly didn't send it. (These denials further kept her safe from giving away any connection with Connor).

When asked about motive, Miss Webster went into great detail. "I killed Carl Rodriguez out of pure hatred," she said calmly. But as she elaborated her tone changed. Her jaw clenched and her eyes spiraled down into darts of fury as she ranted, "He comes in with his good looks and his handsome face, no money, no real prospects, and convinces a weak, mentally ill, TOFF that she is meant to be with him. He had to die. Then you and your _"_ _ **doctor friend**_ _"_ show up and all of a sudden that imbecile Felicity claims that _**she**_ killed her fiancée and, to top it off, _**you**_ act like a pit bull with his teeth into something and can't see that she's crazy. You want to convict her!" Webster leaned back in her chair shaking her head in disbelief. She took a deep breath and continued, "Well, then I figured, that's alright – I'll get the money anyway, but then you and Dr. Ogden go and get Carl Rodriguez to admit that he was covering for her because, and this part was just unbelievable, because they were reincarnated lovers. I mean they really believed they used to be Jane Kleet and this painter Tristan. Insanity." Now she leaned forward again and took a firm hold of Murdoch's eye and said, barely keeping her seething anger under control, "But the real topper was you and your smartass wood slivers, unbelievable – some tiny little splinters of wood in my gloves and now I'm the murderer! Oh, I how hated you all." She dropped her eyes to look down at her hands on the table. They were rolled into fists. She forced herself to open them and then rested her chin in one of her hands. Eyes still down she started calmly, "But what really pushed me over the edge was reading about you and Ogden in the newspapers. Just like them – disgusting! Madly in love, meant to be together at all odds…" Once again she met his eyes revealing the intensity of her anger, "Even if Ogden's husband had to be killed in order for you two to accomplish it– just like them, I mean detective, you are a good-looking man with a handsome face and absolutely no prospects – a financial disaster, a police detective of all things! You go and get all of her money, just like Carl would have, and Ogden's so stupid she falls for it. She had to die because she's stupid – what a blind imbecile! Falling in love with you cost her everything, don't you see?"

Murdoch revealed no emotion and responded, "No. Enlighten me."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, looking smug. Sarcastically she said, "So you think that just because Gillies trapped you in his little cage – his experiment, and you " _ **passed the love test**_ " – loved your sweet Julia enough to give your life to free her from the noose … You think that absolves you?! Typical man – so self-involved that you don't see that you ruined her life. She was married to a good man – OF HER STANDING! … And then, even worse, you go getting her pregnant. Her first husband never got her pregnant. In the end her love for you _**will kill her**_. If it's not at the hand of not some crazy like Gillies, then it will be a culmination of her own past abortion and your need to have a child – bringing to the light of day her one crime – her abortion… All so you could have a son," she spit out, shaking her head again with disapproval. "Yes, you had to die too, most of all!" she finished with a huff.

"Hence, the attempt to shoot me today with the ruse of my wife's dead body floating in the pond," Murdoch added.

Isabel Webster lifted her face. Her eyes were cold as she goaded, "Only missed by half an inch."

Murdoch remembered his hat, now rendered useless due to the two bullet holes in its top, and frowned. He loved that hat.

He showed her a picture of Jane. She did not seem to recognize her. She took the woman's photo in her hands to look at it more closely and slyly said, "Well now detective, it looks like this one is giving Dr. Ogden a run for her money in your case. You seem to be quite attracted to her, hey detective? Oh … Sorry, she is going to hang now isn't she … your wife, I mean, you must be heart-broken… You've lost your wife … and your kiddies too. Perhaps you can make a go of it with this beauty once your beloved " _ **Julia"**_ is out of the picture."

Murdoch did not react to her attempts to throw him off. He placed a picture of Connor down in front of her, watching her reaction very, very closely. He saw it – fear. He'd seen it before when showing people this man's photo or giving them his description.

She calmly shook her head, "Never seen him, I'm sorry detective," she said. She paused, sighed, and then added, "But you know, I was thinking that if someone wanted you and Ogden dead, rather than kidnap your children and then use them as bait to catch their parents, it would be easier to kill the children – and then simply kill their parents at the funeral." She looked up, firmly holding his eye, daring him to flinch – to show his fear. She did not get what she was looking for. "Oh well, I figure you haven't found their bodies yet then," she goaded.

Murdoch ended the interrogation, figuring she was not going to budge on giving up information about Connor. He had her locked up in the cells.

Once again, Detective Gulliver was impressed with the interrogation. It seemed that all the preparation Murdoch went through was unnecessary, Miss Webster admitted to all of the killings and Murdoch didn't have to actually point out any of the facts. She just gave it up, but of course, only after Murdoch lied to her about _**him**_ having set the trap for _**her**_. It was ingenious, and she folded immediately. Gulliver asked Murdoch, "What I don't understand, detective, is how you knew it was safe to lie. I mean, how did you know the she did not have Dr. Ogden locked away somewhere, not yet dead, but in danger of dying if Miss Webster were not released?"

Murdoch's attention seemed to be focused elsewhere; he had placed the bag with Miss Webster's .12 caliber gun in it down in front of him on his desk. Gulliver was surprised when he answered, his eyes still down on the gun, "Her pattern consisted of using the bodies of people she had killed in her subsequent traps, even though she denies doing so in the case of using Mrs. Rodriguez's body in the trap for Dr. Ogden and I…"He looked up to show a frown and added, "Which is very unfortunate because it would have undeniably tied her to Connor." William turned the bag with the gun in it over on his desk to examine the other side. He looked troubled but he continued, "If she had killed Julia, she would have placed her body in the pond, not a fake one… Besides, it was unlikely that all of a sudden she would change her routine to start hiding her victims away, keeping them alive before eventually killing them."

"Yes, I see," Gulliver said. "What is bothering you about the gun?" he asked.

Murdoch leaned back in his chair, giving himself some distance from the object of his focus. He sighed. "It seems somehow familiar to me," he offered, "I'm trying to figure out why."

"You told me that the reason we were looking through the records of people committing crimes with .12 caliber guns was because Miss Webster was removing the bullets from her victims – as if she knew we would have records to match them to this weapon… Perhaps you _**have**_ seen it before, no?" Gulliver asked.

Murdoch rubbed his forehead. Gulliver didn't know him well enough to know it was a habit that betrayed his higher levels of stress. "Yes, of course, but it seems more distant somehow." He paused in thought. "You know, there is no reason a fingermark would disintegrate over time. Yes, it would _**probably**_ get smudged, or if the gun were ever wiped clean … But it is _**possible**_ that the fingermarks of someone who used the weapon, decades ago even, could still be there. Let's have it dusted for fingermarks," Murdoch said, finally catching Gulliver's eye and twisting a corner of his mouth up to show his doubt.

"I would like to give it a try, if you think I'm ready, sir?" Gulliver suggested. Murdoch gave him the task.

I'm going to need to re-question Miss Webster. I must be more distracted than I thought. I forgot to ask her about why she removed the bullets from Mr. Rodriguez's and Mr. Lynch's bodies. And even why she killed Lynch. Murdoch dropped his eyes to the tiny gun in the bag on his desk again.

While Murdoch looked down studying the small gun, Gulliver asked him to think out loud so he could learn from his thought process.

William tried, knowing it would slow him down, hoping the young man knew how generous the gesture was considering Julia was out there somewhere and needed to be saved as soon as possible. He started, "The gun connects Webster to Connor, I'm sure of it – but it's a woman's gun?" he wrinkled a corner of his mouth indicating his confusion with that point. He continued, his eyes drifting to the rifle on the worktable, "And the rifle she used to shoot at me – we need to check its bullet striations and see if we can find a match in our files for those arrested with rifles – I wager that will get to Connor too. There may be a middle man who has sold guns to both of them, or it may be more direct, like Connor actually gave the .12 caliber gun and the rifle to Isabel, but there's a connection. Before I question Webster again, we'll need to check the rifle." Murdoch lifted up the list of six names of people previously arrested with .12 caliber guns in their possession and said, "We should also check to see if the three .12 caliber guns we should still have down in evidence in the armory according to this list are still actually there.

Murdoch instructed Gulliver to have Crabtree show him how to get a bullet fired from the rifle, and once he had a bullet to start looking for striation pattern matches. He wanted them to do the same for the .12 caliber gun. Until Crabtree returned, he could work on getting the fingermarks from Webster's .12 caliber gun and the rifle.

Dr. Tash showed up voluntarily for questioning. The Inspector took him into the interview room and conducted the interview. Murdoch and Gulliver watched from outside. Dr. Tash argued that there was really no need to confiscate all of his files. He was willing to cooperate fully. He explained that Dr. Ogden had informed him herself that she had had a previous abortion many years ago, and that it had been done poorly. As a result there was irreparable scarring of her cervix, and most likely of her lower uterus as well. This scarring would limit the ability of the cervix to stretch sufficiently to allow the birth of a full term infant. With the invention of the transverse Cesarean section, she would likely be able to survive the delivery of her child. She and Detective Murdoch had opted, after much tumultuous discussion, to have Dr. Ogden try to carry the child to full term and then deliver via surgery.

The Inspector looked very disappointed as he finished the interview and sent the doctor home. He would not take the other patient's files; it was not necessary. Dr. Tash had claimed that it was true that Ogden had had an abortion. It was done now. Before Tash left he and Murdoch went into Murdoch's office. They both reasoned that such an action would not be suspect as the doctor was a friend of the couple's and he had just provided damning evidence against Murdoch's wife. Further, Dr. Ogden was still missing, and Dr. Tash could be offering her husband friendly support during such a difficult time. In reality, they discussed William's plan to lie about the circumstances surrounding the abortion in an effort to stop charges from being brought against Julia.

Isaac informed William that an old anatomy professor of Julia's, Dr. Bainbridge, had died and was never married and had no children. William planned to tell Julia to say that Bainbridge had drugged her and performed the abortion himself, botching it badly.

Once the important planning was out of the way, Isaac asked how William was holding up with Julia missing, and the children too. William exhaled deeply, the action immediately showing his stress. "I try to stay focused on solving the case – it is the best way I have to try to find them, save them," he explained.

Isaac offered again to help in any way he could and William thanked him for what he had already done. Once Dr. Tash got back to his office, there were some reporters there. Isaac was amazed at how quickly they had found out about his responses to the constabulary – they knew he had confirmed the accuracy of his stolen files straightaway. He was not expecting them to ask if Detective Murdoch had been aware of his wife's abortion at the time of her pregnancy with their son. However, he knew that the question was posed to open the door for charging the detective with knowingly concealing knowledge of the commission of a crime. He was quoted as saying, "I have no knowledge that Detective Murdoch was aware of Dr. Ogden's abortion. He knew of the complications she would face giving birth. He was very much involved in the decision to attempt to carry the pregnancy to term and deliver the child through transverse Cesarean section. As you know, it was Detective Murdoch himself, who in the end who actually performed the procedure … as a result of a snow storm. But the detective never asked why his wife had developed the complications." He placed a phone call to William later to prepare him for the story in the morning.

Higgins proudly returned with Ed Obannon and placed him in the interview room. Murdoch questioned him. Predictably, he claimed that neither himself nor Hoyt still had the gun, claiming it had been stolen a few years back. When asked where he was working he replied, "Here and there." He offered up two locations. Murdoch had constables call to check and found that he and his brother worked at both locations, but very rarely. He knew there was a good chance that they really worked for Connor. He had Ed Obannon locked in the cells and assigned a daytime and a nighttime constable to watch the Obannon home and follow Hoyt to try to find out where he worked.

Sitting at his desk, William was working on finding one of the people whose .12 caliber gun should have been in evidence but was not – a Miss Clemmens who had been convicted for trying to kill her mother-in-law. He heard the pigeons making a ruckus at his window again. " _It's late afternoon_ ," he thought. He stood up and watched as they fluttered around. None of them had a message. He found himself wishing he had something to feed them, barely noticing that he himself hadn't eaten anything since his breakfast this morning with Eloise. Unavoidably, for he had stopped thinking about the case, he thought of Julia. She had been missing nearly 24 hours now. He knew that the more time that went by, the lower were her chances of being found alive. Spotting the mark on the wall from where he had punched it this morning, he subconsciously clenched his fingers into a fist, feeling the pain, and imagined Connor roughly pulling Julia's head back by her hair and laying a knife-blade across her throat.

Pulling him out of the disturbing fantasy, Constable Crabtree knocked on Murdoch's doorframe. Murdoch turned and with a slight smile said, "What have you George?"

"Well sir, I did spot a man pulling up to the Belle Ewart ice company in a grey and red buckboard. Unfortunately, another man pointed me out to him and he ran … I'm so sorry sir, he got away from me," George reported.

William took a seat at his desk and regretfully replied, "I'm sure you did your best George."

George sighed. William noticed he had something in his hand. George lifted it up – it was Julia's other shoe. It had been squashed, most likely by the loading of ice blocks on top of it. William thought, " _He must_ _ **not**_ _have known the shoe was there when he loaded the ice on top of it._ " They had found Julia's abductor. They hadn't caught him yet. They didn't know who he was. They didn't know if he had already killed Julia or not. They didn't know if he acted alone or with someone else – that thought prompting William to flinch slightly as he thought of Connor. Murdoch said, "Let's chase every clue we have here George. Bring in the man who tipped him off that you were there. And pull fingermarks off of the shoe, but I don't think we'll find our abductor's marks – I don't think he knew the shoe was in his buckboard… Did you recognize him George?"

George tilted his head, looked away as he ran the image of the man through his head. "I would have to say no sir, but there was something vaguely familiar about him. A thought with the face, that made me think he was disturbed, but more like remembering that I had thought that about the man previously than that I thought it for the first time when I saw him at the ice company. It's too weak though… I can't get my teeth into it," he explained. George volunteered to check the shoe for fingermarks.

William stared again at the file and tried to re-focus on Miss Clemmens' current whereabouts to ascertain if she had legally recollected her .12 caliber gun. A pigeon flapped against the window again, prompting him to remember spooking at the same sound, just yesterday, while eating lunch with Julia. He remembered the delicious feel of her walking up behind him as he sat at the worktable, rubbing his stomach, driving him into lustful distraction as she slid her hands up to stroke his chest muscles. Then he saw in his mind's eye, Julia holding the pigeon and raising her eyebrow at him as she teased him about his expectation that she could keep the bird from defecating in his office. " _What were we talking about right before the pigeon startled me?_ " he asked himself. He heard it clear as day, as if she were sitting right next to him, Julia's voice from the dream he had had this morning – " _ **Look in paper William."**_ His mind raced, " _There had been writing on one of the papers from when she was in prison!_ " He quickly reached for the pile of papers and notes that still remained at the corner of his desk.

He found the front page article that Julia had made marks on. The headline read, "Citizen Ogden, Canadian Heroine Gets 36 Days for Contraception Education." The article had two photos. The largest photo was of him and George entering the courthouse on the day of Julia's sentencing, but there were also some anti-contraception protesters in the picture. Julia had circled the face of one of those protesters. William recognized the man as the one who had yelled that Julia should have been hung the first time. Next to the circled face, Julia had written 1899. William was certain that this was the man whose wife had been protesting with Julia, and who had threatened his wife with a beating and had even tried to hit his wife, only to have Julia intervene and shove him into the ground, causing him to knock over a vegetable cart. He would likely have held a grudge. He may very well be the man with the grey and red buckboard who abducted Julia.

Excitedly William called out, "George!" as he stood and rushed into the bullpen. "George, does this man look familiar to you?" William asked placing the newspaper down on George's desk.

"Sir!" George exclaimed, "That's the man at the ice factory! That's him!

William took a deep breath. They needed to find the man's name. He knew there was something … William tilted his head to the side and his eyes took on that odd focus that showed he was imagining things in his head. In his mind's eye he saw himself and Julia back when they lived at the Windsor House Hotel, sitting on the couch and sharing readings from their journals. Julia had disclosed that Darcy had started cutting any articles about William out of their morning newspaper due to his jealousy – and control issues. William remembered that there had been some old newspaper stories folded up in Julia's journal from the time. If one of them was about this story with the man being pushed by Julia, and he thought it likely as he remembered that that had been a front page story at the time, then he could get the man's name. William warned, "I have to go get something from home!" as he rushed to grab his hat – then remembered the bullet holes in it and left it, and then rushed out the door.

He quickly entered the house, calling out to Eloise to let her know that it was him. Quickly up the stairs, and then he rushed to open the various drawers of Julia's vanity. " _There!_ " he thought as he spotted her flower-covered journal. Hurrying, he found the newspaper article folded up inside. He opened it to see the headline on the front page, "Doctor Publicly Promotes Illegal Contraception Clinic," " _This is it!"_ he thought as he started to skim the text looking for a name. "Mr. Elmer Wilson! … Got him!" William said. William called stationhouse #4 and asked for George. He gave George the man's name and told him to find him and arrest him as soon as possible – to take Gulliver to help.

Not long afterward, William was questioning the man in the interview room. "I didn't kill her," Wilson insisted. You ain't gonna get me on murder … no siree," he repeated. Wilson leaned forward to look Murdoch in the eye and said, "Nope. Your wife – her fate is in God's hands now. Maybe she'll live, maybe she won't, but it weren't me that killed her if she don't – that would be God's choice."

"Where is Dr. Ogden, Mr. Wilson?" Murdoch requested again, his tone less patient. It was obvious that Mr. Wilson was not going to divulge where he had left Julia, but William was relieved to know that he hadn't killed her. There was a good chance she was still alive. Detective Gulliver and Constable Crabtree watched from outside the interview room. The Inspector came back with his black glove. He entered and dismissed Murdoch. Murdoch tried to protest, he truly was disgusted by the Inspector's sometimes brutal methods of questioning, but he yielded easily – perhaps due to his desperation for the information in this case. He wasn't going to stay and watch though.

"George," he asked, "please look into any properties Mr. Wilson may own – businesses, homes?" The wrinkle at the corner of his mouth betrayed his lack of hope in getting much from the search – Mr. Wilson did not seem like a very wealthy man; he likely owned nothing.

George looked at Gulliver and with a tip of his head to the side, invited him to help. "Right away sir," he said to Murdoch. "Oh and sir," he remembered, "As we have Mr. Wilson's confession to abducting the good doctor it wouldn't have mattered anyway, but there was another print on Dr. Ogden's shoe …"

"Oh?" Murdoch asked.

George's face took on the expression of an apology and he said, "Yours."

Murdoch smiled and said, "Of course, I must have touched her shoe at one time or another." In his mind he saw the memory of kneeling down in front of Julia. She was sitting on their couch in their house – about four month's pregnant with their second child – a child that she would subsequently miscarry. He had taken off her shoes – this pair, and massaged her feet. The exquisite memory of the sounds of her moans of pleasure and appreciation still managed to warm his heart.

George put down the picture of Murdoch's fingermark, picked up the phone and called the post office to start trying to find any other addresses for Mr. Wilson. Detective Gulliver went back to trying to find matches for the fingermark he had found that was _**not**_ Miss Webster's on the .12 caliber gun. He had also found multiple fingermarks on the rifle that were not Miss Webster's. The work was really piling up.

The Inspector's methods rendered no pertinent information from Mr. Wilson, except for the fact that wherever Julia was, she was bound and locked in a steamer trunk. William thought to himself that Julia had a better chance of getting out of a trunk than some of the other places he had envisioned her being stowed away, one of the scariest being a reminder of Gillies – a grave. Now that the interview room was empty, he had a constable bring Miss Webster back up from the cells for questioning. Imagining the two cells, one with Miss Webster and the other with Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Obannon, Murdoch felt some relief that he had been able have Miss Ward released earlier. It would have been challenging for her to have to be jailed with the woman she had been forced to replace and serve a life sentence for.

William had prepared for the second interrogation of Miss Webster. On the top of the file he had photos of the .12 caliber gun, the rifle, and Mr. Lynch, as well as photos of the bullet wounds on the backs of the heads of Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Lynch. Miss Webster claimed she purchased both the gun and the rifle from the same man. He frequented a bar called the "Black Pheasant Tavern." She only went to the bar this once to purchase the weapons. A man on the street had told her where to find him and when to go. She did not know who the man on the street was, only that he actually approached her because she looked out of place – it was down at the docks, and he thought she might be in the market for something illegal. She killed Lynch simply to have a body to use to place the aconite-poison trap in for Ogden. Supposedly he was out walking late at night – also down on the docks.

Suddenly William thought to check the soles of her shoes for the black ink. He asked her to remove her shoes and he inspected them – no black ink. He sat back down and prepared to ask her his most important question. He placed the bullet extractor on the table and watched her reaction. Worry crossed her face to quickly be quelled. "This was found in your purse. Can you explain what it is please," he instructed.

She replied, "I don't really know. I found it at the Rodriguez cabin. The box suggested it might be a fancy necklace, so I took it, only to find out that it was not later."

Murdoch leaned towards her, his hands clasped in front of him, once again over the file folder, and said, "That's very interesting Miss Webster." Next he opened the file folder and placed the two photos of her victim's bullet wounds to the back of their heads. Miss Webster exhaled sharply. Murdoch knew she was feeling stressed. "Do you know what was incredibly unique and distinct about these two wounds?" Murdoch asked.

She did not reply, just held his eye and sarcastically said, mimicking his earlier statement, "No. Enlighten me."

The corners of Murdoch's mouth curled upward as he reacted to his disappointment in her resistance to admit she was cornered. He took a deep breath and asked, indicating he knew she was lying, "Miss Webster, why did you remove the bullets from these two wounds?"

She denied removing the bullets, saying, with a sly, smug tone, "I didn't. Someone else must have done so."

Exasperated, Murdoch stood up, left the room, and had Miss Webster brought back down to the cells to keep Mr. Wilson, and now also Mr. Obannon, company.

Inspector Davis arrived and went into the Inspector's office. After a brief, and, as observed by Crabtree and Gulliver, _**heated**_ discussion, Murdoch was called into the Inspector's office. The blinds were pulled down.

"That's not good," Crabtree said to Gulliver. The two men seemed to be becoming friends. Crabtree enjoyed working with someone as enthusiastic as himself, and bright too. Detective Gulliver admired George's sense of humor and his wide insight into all of the people around him. They shared a look and got back to work.

Inside the Inspector's office, Murdoch was informed that, should Dr. Ogden show up, she was to be arrested and charged with murder. Chief Inspector Davis then said, "I need to know whether you knew about your wife's abortion detective. We can't have a Constabulary detective who knowingly looked the other way when discovering a murder had been committed – even if it had been committed by his wife."

Murdoch took a deep breath; the pressure was definitely on. "Sir, first off I would like to say that I believe you must consider all of the circumstances when deciding whether or not to charge someone with such a crime – especially in such a controversial situation as abortion…"

Davis stood up defiantly and fumed, "I don't see any controversy! Abortion is murder; there is no doubt." Murdoch also stood, refusing to be at a disadvantage.

Then Brackenreid stood as well. "Gentlemen, gentlemen … Shall we agree that, at least in this case, it is important to gather all of the facts before we go off charging Dr. Ogden with murder."

Davis claimed that they had all of the facts they needed. According to Dr. Tash, Dr. Ogden had admitted that she had had an abortion.

Arguing that there were other facts to consider, William explained that he had eventually come to learn that Julia had been forced by the father of the child to have the abortion. He contended that she could not be held responsible for something that was forced upon her. Davis seemed swayed by the argument, but stated that he wanted to hear it from Dr. Ogden herself, during questioning – _**after**_ she'd been arrested. Unfortunately, William's knowledge of the circumstances surrounding her abortion suggested that he had known she had had an abortion and not turned her in, and that as a result, he was in danger of being dismissed from his position.

The sun was low in the sky when the carriage pulled up to the stationhouse. Julia sat next to a man in the carriage. She looked to be in extreme disarray. Her hair was a tangled mess, with nearly as much hair out of her bun as was in it. She was missing one earring, and her face and her dress were covered in a brown-grey film of dried mud. Her dress was torn at one shoulder and on the skirt. She was barefoot, with significant holes and runs in her saggy, muddy stockings. She thanked the man profusely for his help. He told her he was glad to help, and he wished her luck in finding her children. He didn't say it, but he also wished her luck in fighting the charges against her for having an abortion. He knew it was likely she had not seen today's papers – having shown up at his house in such a state barely an hour ago, and asking for assistance.

Julia disembarked and headed for the door. She heard her breath as she rushed forward. It was hurried. Her anticipation was great. In her mind she saw what would happen. She would charge in the door. William would see her – run to her – take her in his strong, loving arms – hold her so tight she would know she was safe – she would know she was home.

The front door opened and Julia rounded the corner, continuing her motion as she crossed the bullpen headed for William's office. Crabtree nearly fell off of his chair as he saw her dart by. "Dr. Ogden!?" he called out as he rushed to his feet.

Julia stood in the doorway of William's office, seeing it was empty she turned and caught George's eye. George looked towards the Inspector's office, prompting Julia's eyes to fly in that direction. Gulliver was already at the Inspector's door. It opened and, as William turned to see who was there, his eyes blew past Gulliver and connected with those of his wife. **He didn't remember running to her – he was already there. She was in his arms!**

Slowly he became aware that he heard her breath in his ear, felt the dampness of her cheek in his neck as tears ran down it. Surrounding them and within them, the electric, captivating hum was so loud it drowned out the rest of the world. He felt himself take a deep breath, cherishing the smell of her as it sank deeper and deeper into him. "Julia," he whispered, the sound of his own voice pulling him a little bit closer to the outside world.

She pulled back, ever so slightly, and her hands slid up from his waist to his chest. Her voice still next to his ear she said, "Oh William… I was locked in a trunk… Oh my God, if you hadn't given me that knife …"

"I know, I know," he said, "We have the man in custody." He remembered now, they were in the stationhouse. As he continued, "Isabel Webster too," he felt his heart begin to race; he remembered that Chief Inspector Davis was there too, probably standing with all the others, watching them. He would want to arrest her. " _I have to tell her! I have to tell her now!"_ chanted in his brain. Keeping his voice low, his mouth hovered at her ear, he said, "Julia, you have to lie. You have to say that Professor …"

Chief Inspector Davis grew frustrated as his commands had gone ignored. He had told Murdoch to stand back to no avail. He had turned to look for support from Brackenreid, and he had gotten none. Now he raised his voice as he ordered Dr. Ogden's arrest for the second time, "Detective Murdoch! Release her at once. She is to be arrested – charged with murder."

William felt Julia pull away. She reached up to wipe a tear from her face and asked, "What? William, what's going on?"

He didn't think his heart could beat any faster, didn't think the ringing of fear in his head could get any louder, but it did. "Julia, you have to listen to me," he whispered. He had her attention, but he also had everyone else's. He couldn't think of a way to tell her what he so desperately needed her to know.

Feeling more powerful now that Murdoch had stepped back from hugging his wife, Davis barked his command once more, "Arrest her – NOW Murdoch … Or I'll arrest her myself and bring her to stationhouse # 5 for questioning."

William turned, a look of absolute desperation on his face, to find the Inspector's eyes.

"Arrest me for what?" Julia asked him, fear now apparent in her voice, in her eyes.

The Inspector took a deep breath and said, "Do it Murdoch." The Inspector knew that if Murdoch were the arresting officer it would look better for him than if Chief Inspector Davis had to do it, or even the Inspector himself. "Murdoch," he said softly, compassionately, "It's for the best if you do it."

William's brain was still racing. " _I could arrest her and then run her into the interview room – try to tell her what to say before they get there to listen in,"_ he thought. He knew he had to do something fast. He decided to arrest her and while doing so, try to think of how to get her alone. "Dr. Julia Ogden …" he started…

Julia seemed to shrink. Her eyes pleaded with him, her head shaking no. "William?" she said slowly, sounding betrayed, in shock.

William's voice choked up as he continued, "You are under arrest for the murder of your unborn child." William ran through the rest of the routine arrest statement, watching as Julia nearly fell apart. Before he had finished, her knees had buckled for a moment and he had had to catch her to keep her from falling.

After he completed the statement, the words escaped from his mouth, before he had even had time to evaluate the plan – he said, his eyes only on his wife as he did so, "She needs a chance to clean-up before questioning. We have a change of clothes in my office." He took her under his protective arm and hurriedly walked her into his office, closing the door and then quickly pulling the blinds.

He took a firm hold of her upper arms, lifting her slightly. His brown eyes were black with adrenalin. The air was charged, a dangerous smell, almost like ozone, filled their nostrils. William explained rapidly, "Dr. Tash's office was broken into and they got your file. The papers reported your abortion, and Tash has made a statement claiming that you had an abortion."

Julia's face showed the multitude of layers of fear and betrayal she was feeling, but William did not pause or offer her comfort. He rushed forward, the feeling of the cyclonic wind swirling all around them.

"You need to say that Professor Bainbridge was the father of the child. That he drugged you, and performed an abortion on you against your will," he demandingly whispered.

She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe William would make such a demand. "I will do no such thing," Julia exclaimed as she pushed against his chest and wiggled to free herself from his grip.

He held on, tightening both his grasp on her as well as the urgency in his eyes. "Isaac checked. Bainbridge is dead – has no wife or children. He will not be harmed," William insisted.

"Let me go!" she commanded, as she struggled hard to get free. William did so. "Professor Bainbridge was a good man. He would never have done such a thing," she stormed. "I cannot besmirch his good name like that William!" she proclaimed.

Fear took William's face and his heart. He had not expected her to contest him. Impending doom was all around. He needed her to fight. "Julia," he begged, "Please… You will face the noose."

She tried to find rational thought. "It is unreasonable that I would be hung for having an abortion!" she said, as tears filled her eyes and her voice began to squeak. "It is my body. I have a right to have control over my body!" she vehemently asserted.

William's eyes jumped to the door; he knew they did not have much time. "Julia, Isaac and I figured it out. It's the only way. You have to say that is what happened…I already told Davis you were forced to have the abortion by the father," he said.

"You did what!" she whispered the scream out. Her anger surprised him. Her arms flailed around irately. "You had no right to do that William. This is my story – MY story to tell, not yours. And if I want to tell the truth, then I should have been able to do so. You took that from me. You had no right!" she seethed. She placed her hands on her hips and her eyes piercingly focused on him, measuring him, she set out on her attack, "You and Isaac – typical male attitudes. You figure, you, the big man, the great William Murdoch, will come to my rescue. Sometimes you are so self-centered … grandiose, and selfish William."

"But Julia, you could hang or serve a life sentence in prison if you tell the truth…"

She found the bag with her clean dress in it and slammed it up on the worktable. "If I am willing to die or not for my cause – that should be MY choice, William – MINE!" she charged, still managing to whisper. "I have no choice now. You forced me into a corner. And I will have to tell your stupid lie. You bastar…" she stopped herself before she said it, shaking her head at how unfathomable this all was.

William's face seemed to be drained of blood as fear for her life, and her unexpected, and seemingly insurmountable anger, whirled together to create a dizzying fright. And yet, he felt a surge of hope in the midst of the storm. He had heard her say it – She would tell the lie. She would live. Relief seeped upward in his soul, somehow defying gravity.

"I am furious with you William," she continued. She turned her back to him, "Undo my corset," she ordered. He helped her change in silence. For each moment that passed, Julia's fury and sense of injustice burned hotter, while William's horror and despair lifted away.

When they emerged from his office, Julia's hair was tightly wrapped in a bun, she had no earrings, her dress was clean and fresh, and she had new stockings on her, still bare, feet. She was no longer crying. She looked … strong. "So … Who is going to question me?" she said, sounding more like a dare than a question, and then she marched herself to the interview room before anyone could answer.

The men all looked at each other. Eventually most eyes fell on Murdoch, not because they expected him to question his own wife about her abortion, but rather because they were flabbergasted by Julia's change. William looked at Davis and opened his arm, gesturing him towards the interview room, "Chief Inspector," he said.

Brackenreid ordered everyone back to work. They scurried quickly, with Murdoch reminding them that there was still a dangerous man out there, with world-grade illegal weapons at his disposal to turn on anyone of his choosing. The Inspector and Murdoch went to observe The Chief Inspector's interrogation of Dr. Ogden.

They sat on opposite sides of the table, Julia fighting back memories of sitting in the same places with Chief Inspector Giles after Darcy had been killed. She knew she had to push down the anger, and find regret in order to be convincible. It was surprisingly easy to do, once she remembered the lie she was to tell – falsely blaming an innocent and wonderful mentor in her life for committing such a crime. She did feel regret. By the time she was telling Chief Inspector Davis the tale, her tears were legitimate – although the cause of the tears was different from what she led him to believe, which was that she regretted having the child be killed… And she regretted the decision to have sexual intercourse with the man.

As they watched, William marveled at her abilities, in this case her acting abilities. His memory drifted to when they faked Anna Fulford's death – the day of the baseball game. He had to be believable as a bereaved lover. He had found it so natural to play the role... perhaps because he had lost so many women in his lifetime, his mother, his sister Susana, then Julia, and at the time, Anna.

Back at their desks, Gulliver and George talked while they worked on matching fingermarks. George said, "I sure do hope Dr. Ogden can compel the Chief Inspector not to charge her." He shook his head with a combination of disbelief and grief. "They have truly been through so much – it sometimes reminds me of the book of Job," he added.

Gulliver lifted his eyes to get George's attention and asked, "What was all that about an experiment with a cage and a "love test" that Murdoch passed? And what did it have to do with Dr. Ogden's husband's death?"

George told him the story of the insane James Gillies and his diabolical plan to frame Dr. Ogden for her husband's death, the motive for which was to be her love for Detective Murdoch, and her desire to be divorced so she could marry him instead. And then to trap Murdoch and force him to decide whether or not to release a poison gas that would kill him, but at the same time would provide a film, telling Gillies' story of how and why he framed Dr. Ogden, that would show her innocence and save her from the noose. With an air of admiration and pride George said, "Of course, Detective Murdoch chose to die to save his love, and released the gas. He is so smart though. He outsmarted Gillies. He had sent us a message, and we were able to pull him out before he succumbed to the gas, and we got the film, and arrested Gillies too. I had to shoot him in the shoulder though – he pulled a gun on me and the Inspector."

Gulliver leaned forward, his expression excited like a child about to get some candy, and whispered, "I would love to see that film. Do you think it is still on file here as evidence?"

George considered the possibility. "Probably," he replied, although his face showed his uncertainty. "You could look for it. It would be filed under Gillies," he instructed.

Still watching intently outside of the interview room, William's heart soared upon hearing Davis tell Julia that, provided she made a statement to the press explaining the circumstances around her abortion, she was free to go. It took all the self-control he had not to jump up and down, and burst into the interview room, and take her up in a hug of joy.

As they exited the interview room, she would not even look at her husband. She went with the Inspector directly into his office to call the press. William's face showed a pang of pain, but he quickly covered it up and got back to focusing on solving the rest of the case.

As he was adding the new information to the blackboard, Jackson knocked on his doorframe and informed Murdoch that Mr. Clegg had been found. He was at York General Hospital. He had a phone number of a Dr. Spira that the detective was to call. Dr. Spira explained that Mr. Clegg would likely recover, but his jaw was wired shut and he was very weak. He had done very little talking. The doctor informed Murdoch that he had spoken with Julia around 3:30 yesterday afternoon. He had figured she had told him about Clegg's whereabouts. William realized that Julia was probably rushing over to tell him the news about Clegg when Mr. Wilson abducted her. He would go see Clegg himself. He wondered if there was a way to let Mr. Meyers know. He didn't want to leave until he got Julia settled.

Six or seven reporters surrounded Julia as she told them her story. There were flashbulbs going off and it seemed that everyone was paying attention to the show. William leaned against his doorframe, regretting the spectacle that Julia had been forced to be caught up in. It stirred, bubbled up – his anger. Someone did this. Someone knew about her abortion – broke in and took Tash's file, and then got the story out to the press. William's jaw clenched as he recognized the fact that he may never know who.

Julia bid the reporters goodnight and thanked them for coming. She stood alone in front of the tall front desk where, only yesterday, William and Gulliver had defused the bomb, as all the men turned back to their business. As he approached her, their eyes met. She took a deep breath and dropped her chin, still adamantly holding his gaze as she exhaled the air, sending one of her curls to flap on her wind. She seemed to be preparing herself for battle. He didn't like the feeling. He stopped closer to her than she would have liked, but she refused to step back. With his voice low, privacy obviously his goal, he said, "I'm sure you are tired; I still have to work tonight … Um, are you going to stay here with me?"

"No. I'll go home. But since you will be staying here, I won't have to leave the bedding out for you to sleep on the couch," she replied, knowing it would dig into him.

William took a deep breath and unconsciously reached up to rub his forehead. "Well, Connor is still out there … I will send an extra constable with you to the house," he replied. He was about to say goodnight when she walked away. She got her bag full of her dirty clothes and waited for the constable to take her home.

William wrinkled up a corner of his face, recognizing the pain he felt. Then he took a deep breath and went on. He would go see Clegg. He would learn very little about the case, but the degree of the beating suggested Clegg had encountered Connor in person; all evidence implied the man was a brute.

At the Murdoch home, one constable stood guard at the backdoor, while the other watched the front of the house from just inside the front gate. Before she went inside, Julia found herself paused on the porch staring at the porch-bench. Memories jolted through her, seeming somehow bigger than life. _She saw William siting way at the edge of the bench, heard him say, "I am lost … have gotten somehow lost, in my emotions right now…"_ She felt the pull at her heart, remembering the strong emotions they had shared only two nights ago that now seemed like years. Next, an older memory drew her mind's eye. _She was pregnant for the second time; William Jr. was almost three. They had disagreed about whether she should try to go through with the pregnancy or not, William's fear of losing her driving his panicked state of unrest. She had found him sitting there, on the bench in his pajamas on a quiet February night, with a decanter of whiskey, drinking at two in the morning. They argued. As Julia stood there now, she heard their words as clear as a bell. William had downed another glass of whiskey and said, "So, even knowing how I feel, you still want to try to have the baby?" She had answered, "Yes. I do… William, this is my body. It is me who has to go through the pregnancy and the surgery." Although her words had been true, they had rendered_ **him** _completely powerless, powerless over his own fate as her lover, as a father, both, of the son they already had, and of the child that might come. She had seen that at the time._ It almost came to light, the connection between that memory and what was happening between them now, but she pushed the thought away, still wanting to hold on to her anger. She went inside.

Now in the foyer, Julia imagined seeing her children run to her. Pure love filled her with the thoughts. As she headed for the stairs, she remembered the feeling of having William Jr. sobbing in her arms the day she returned from prison. Her son had suffered terribly with her absence – everyone had. Then, in their bedroom, her mind's eye replayed some of the morning scenes of playful roughhousing that the family shared, pillow thefts and fights, screeches of delight, and lovely, lovely laughter.

In the carriage ride to the hospital, William entertained his feelings. He was nearly giddy with joy. " _She's back. Julia is in the clear now. Safe. Out of the woods … Julia's home,_ " he thought. His heart was sunny with hope. He felt he saw a way to the end of all of this. The clues were piling up. They would likely soon find Connor and be able to disarm the final threat. Intermittently, he replayed her angry words. Try as he might, though, regret for having done what he had done would not take hold.

In the shower she found herself drenched in memories again. Her eyes soaked in the view of the tiled-wall as she remembered William behind her, pressing deeply into her with abandon, driving her harder and harder into the wall. The memory twisted and tightened her insides in an ever so delightful and familiar way. Then she remembered him comforting her in the prison after she had been attacked, backing her into the wall. She still remembered the sound, the feel, of the bump as her back hit the wall. They had gotten quite aroused. Oh, how much they wanted to be together and couldn't. She heard William's voice in her ear, the steam from the shower reminding her of its damp warmth, as he had said, "I'm trying," in response to her breathless reminder that they needed to remember where they were. She remembered the joy of their shared laughter. Her anger seemed to drain away, to be replaced by compassion. Julia sighed. She realized that she felt relief. " _Thank God_ ," she thought as the awareness that she had so very narrowly escaped a terrible fate, for herself and for her family. A twinge of guilt flipped in her stomach. " _He saved me again_ ," she thought. The decision was quick. She wanted to go to him.

Julia called her children at Judith's house. They were worried. They hadn't heard from her for days. She was proud of them. They were being well-behaved and caring with each other, despite the highly stressful situation they were thrown into. She encouraged them that their Daddy was getting close to finding the men they needed to arrest, and to keep being good. She didn't think it would be too much longer until they could all be together again.

She packed a peanut butter-and-jelly picnic basket, and dressed herself in William's favorite dress, the slightly tight one with the spherical pearl buttons and the lower-cut bosom. The extra constable brought her back to the stationhouse. When she got there, William was out. She spoke with Detective Gulliver and George for a while. Detective Gulliver had Gillies' film on his desk. The three of them made a plan to watch it together over at the morgue tomorrow. Then Julia went to wait for William in his office.

She thought it was odd that William had left his hat. On further investigation, she figured out why. There were two bullet holes in it. " _Oh my God, he was almost shot_ ," she thought as she stuck her finger through one of the holes. She took a seat at his desk. Her eyes drifted to the pile of papers she had left on his desk when she returned from the prison. She noticed the picture in the newspaper in which she had circled the man's face. " _Of course,_ " she thought, " _That's how William found him!_ " He had gone to the house and found her journal as well. She marveled at the man sometimes. She pulled out the notes from the children. Oh, she loved them so.

Then the note William had written her caught her eye. She re-read it, knowing before she started, that it would make her cry. It said, _**"I would not be being truthful if I said I am fine without you, for I am not. It seems that you are so intertwined with every aspect of my life, every part of myself, that I cannot listen to someone speak without a memory of you being called up in my mind; I cannot look upon an object without seeing your face at some time or another as you interacted with such a thing; I cannot smell a smell without finding my attention drawn to a time I inhaled such a scent with you; there seems to be no sound that does not remind me of hearing it with you by my side; not even a taste that stands alone, as I find my tongue, too, is connected to countless memories I've shared with you. When we are apart, I seem to live in the past, finding my life only in my memories, or perhaps in the future, as I long to be with you once again. Without you, I have lost my present, my here and now, like a boat with no anchor, ungrounded and adrift in a dense fog. I find there is nothing I can do but wait it out until I can be with you again. It seems that only then can I be truly alive – as it is when we are together that we stand in the present and make memories and make plans for the future. Only with you am I grounded and firmly in the world as opposed to somehow outside of it. Yes, my love, it is true, only with you, am I fine."**_ She folded the note back up with a sniffle. " _Where is the man with his handkerchief when you need him",_ she chuckled to herself.

Out in the bullpen, Gulliver and George had briefly shared their relief that the good doctor had returned. They both anticipated the look of happiness they would see on Detective Murdoch's face when he returned to see her here. Gulliver decided to put the film out of sight in a drawer, feeling the pact the three of them had made to watch felt like a secret. That's when he saw it – recognized it as _**the one**_ he had been looking for. He snatched the fingermark card up quickly and held it next to the copy of the mark he was looking for. "A definite match!" he exclaimed. "Look George. I've got it!" he said as he passed the evidence to the constable. George agreed – the fingermark on Miss Webster's .12 caliber gun was Detective Murdoch's!

Detective Murdoch returned. He stopped at Gulliver's and Crabtree's desks to be caught up on their progress. They informed him that the rifle Miss Webster had used to attempt to kill him had four other people's fingermarks on it. They had identified three of them. One was Tim O'Shea's, the other two also belonged to bad characters that had frequented the docks in the past. George had already called in Constable Simmons to do overtime and go try to find the two men, as Tim O'Shea was dead.

"Good," Murdoch responded. They were getting closer. He was excited.

Detective Gulliver had saved the really shocking news till last. "Oh, and detective," he started, "We found the print on Miss Webster's .12 caliber gun we were searching for …" He paused, making sure he had the detective's attention. Fighting back a smile for the shear irony of it all, he finished, "It was yours."

"Mine?!" Murdoch questioned. "Mine?" he repeated.

George added, "Yes sir. Yours – there is no question." Detective Gulliver handed Murdoch the two fingermarks to compare for himself. He nodded, they were a match. He lifted his eyes and looked at George, "I'm positive I never handled this gun with my bare hands … It must be from the first time the gun crossed our hands – from when I arrested the owner years ago. Check the files for any of my arrests that involved a .12 caliber."

George agreed but passed the job to Gulliver, explaining he was hoping to go home; exhaustion was taking its toll. "Oh, and sir," he said with a huge smile growing across his face.

Murdoch looked somewhat puzzled at the emotion and asked, "Yes?"

George fought not to blurt it out like a surprise-birthday declaration, saying simply, "Dr. Ogden is waiting for you in your office."

Detective Gulliver and Crabtree shared a look as Murdoch's face hopped to near-elation. "Thank you George," he said with his eyes already turning to see for himself. She sat at the worktable, her back to him. "Have a good night," he finished, already standing at his door and reaching to turn the doorknob.

She had heard his voice, fought the urge to rush to him, as she so wanted their reuniting to be … private. She turned as she heard the door open.

Gulliver tried very, very hard to pretend he wasn't watching as he looked through the files. George put on his hat and took his leave. The stationhouse was nearly empty, only Gulliver and the constable at the front desk left in attendance, as two nighttime constables were assigned outside – one watching Hoyt Obannon's house, the other guarding the Murdoch home. Gulliver dimmed the lights out in the bullpen while the couple talked. He pulled out the camera Murdoch had given him to record the fingermarks. He planned to photograph them. He hoped they would not close the blinds.

William walked in the door, out of habit reaching up as if to hang his hat before remembering he did not have it in his hand. Their eyes met. They each felt a jolt. "Julia," he said, his voice fairly neutral in tone. "Are you still angry?" he asked casually, wanting not to add charge to her reply, and dropping his eyes to his desk. But before the words had completely left his lips, he had recognized her dress – he knew they were alright. His heart soared, " _Thank God_ ," he thought.

"A little," she replied, not being completely honest, but wanting to save face, at least a bit.

On his desk he found the picnic basket. She noticed and said, "I believe you probably have not been eating detective…"

Their eyes met again – the connection between them sparking, and yet, they each worked to mask feeling it. William subconsciously touched his stomach. He had not thought about it at all, but he had not eaten since Eloise had brought by some breakfast. He was ravenous. He wrinkled a corner of his mouth admitting she was right and said, "Uh, No … Nothing since this morning." Figuring that the meal would be much more pleasant after they had worked out their differences, William tried to think of something to do before opening up the picnic basket. "Um, I have to update the board first," he said as he walked towards the blackboard harboring the diagram with all of the important information from the case.

Before she joined him, Julia enjoyed the view. It was one of her very favorites – William working at the board. It seemed to bring so many of his special attributes to the forefront; his fit, muscular body, his gorgeous face - focused and intense, and his brilliant mind. By the time she stood next to him, he had added all of the information, and now was standing back to gather what he could from its completion to this point.

Although he could see in his periphery that she was looking at the board, he felt her attention on him. He glanced sideways. His smile grew and his heart flipped as she turned her head and their eyes met again. " _My God she's stunning_ ," he thought. Returning his gaze to the board, he took a deep breath and stepped to the potential fire. His face wrinkled, showing some discomfort, and with an air of regret, "Julia," he began, "I have been thinking about it, and I see your point … Um, about my actions having taken your choice away…" He paused, watched closely for her reaction.

She kept her eyes on the board as well. "Yes?" she said.

William swallowed, this part would be harder. "I … I, well … You are right. I was being selfish," he said. He turned to her now. She turned to him too. His urge to touch her began to tug at him, a wayward, golden curl dancing so enticingly on the edge of her face. She took a deep breath. " _Preparing herself_ ," he thought. He dug down to find the truth; he knew it was the only thing that worked. "Julia … I can't say I regret … Um, painting you into the corner, as you say. I, um, well, Julia, I need you so very much to be with me. I …"

She reached up, reassured him with her touch. Her thumb brushed across his cheek as her fingers moved in to tuck softly behind his ear, then settled in to play and scratch in his hair. The couple halted momentarily – each stunned as the gravity took them. "It was me who was selfish, William," she said. Then she wrinkled her mouth as she re-thought her statement and added, "Well, at least self-centered. I …" She took another deep breath. "I wasn't thinking right. I had somehow lost my perspective of my _**whole**_ life – I am your wife, William – your lover. I am our children's mother," she explained. Shame welled up and she dropped her eyes. She felt him hold her with his eyes as she brought her hand back down to rest at her side. "And I struggle, well you know this … I um, find it challenging to give up control," she said, lifting her eyes again to smile, at her tiny inside joke, at her own expense. He appreciated the humor of her self-deprecation with a smile, for there had been quite a few times in their lives where Julia's control issues had brought them some serious bumps in the road. He lifted her chin, bringing her beautiful blue eyes in line with his. She couldn't help but melt, from the inside out, at the sight of his warm, brown, chocolate eyes. She fought to remember what she was going to say. "I want you to know how important you are to me William. That I need you too, and I am sorry, I um, sometimes might take over, and forget how much we do the important things in our lives together," she offered.

William had an idea. He guided her back a step and flipped the board over so that they were looking at the blank side. He picked up a piece of chalk and, starting near the bottom of the board, he drew a line upwards, bending it into a few curves and stopping about half-way up the board. He took a deep breath and said, "I think it's like we are two parallel lines, Julia…" He placed the chalk about an inch away from where he had started the first line at the bottom of the board, and then drew a second line parallel to the first one, keeping them aligned around the curves and bends. He continued, "A change in one brings about a change in the other. Where one bends, the other must bend as well. Sometimes completely together, sometimes in response to a distancing by the other. But we travel the path we make, bonded, somehow deeply tied, together. I guess that this time, it was my turn – that you had to follow me. I'm sorry, but I know in my heart I had no choice …" His voice began to choke-up as he pushed on, "Julia, if you died …" William placed the piece of chalk at the end of the second line he had drawn, and he drew a dark dot on the end – like a period, representing its end. Then he placed the chalk back on the ending of the first line, paused, waiting, stuck, next to the period, and he said, as he vibrated the chalk at the end of the line, "I wouldn't know where to go, what to do, how to be. Everything inside of me would tell me to wait, not to go on without you."

She took another piece of chalk in her fingers. "But you would," she whispered. He saw that she had tears in her eyes as well. She placed the chalk back down at the bottom of the board, in between the two lines that he had already drawn. As she started to draw the third line between the other two she said, "We have our children." When she reached the point where the second line had ended, marked by the period, she looked to him. His piece of chalk still rested at the end of the first line, where it had halted next to the period of its parallel. He understood. She said, "The children would need to move forward, and thus, so would you." They drew the two lines together, the one representing him without her, the other representing their children. Julia followed his line as the children would be linked to him, she matched his turns. But, as they approached the top of the board, Julia intentionally, strongly pulled the line she was drawing away from his. "Someday, they'll go their own way she said, but they will need one of us, at least, until then," she finished.

William took her piece of chalk and placed it with his back in the tray. He took a hold of her upper arms and tightly locked his eyes with hers, "Of course. You are right. But I tell you now Julia," he said, shaking his head, "If there is any way to keep you with me, any way to save you, I will do it. I will do anything I can to keep you by my side…" He dropped his eyes, feeling shame, but then firmly connected to hers again, having already confronted it and feeling confident about his moral decision, he added, "Even lie … even under oath if need be."

"Fine," she replied. "But you had best understand that I feel the same way about you," she said as her hands slid up his chest to stroke and play with his tie. "And I will have you know, William Murdoch," she continued, now loosening the tie, "That I am aware of the bullet holes in your beloved hat … And therefore I also know, that the line that stopped, the line that ended, could just as easily have been yours as mine – And that we need to treasure each moment we have together, knowing the uncertainty of life as we do." She leaned in and covered his lips with hers. Their kiss deepened before he pulled back, changed the angle, and kissed her more passionately as he pulled her into his arms, cloaked her. He broke off the kiss and whispered in her ear, "I love you Julia. You are my everything," and then he nibbled on her ear, and then took her neck aggressively, drawing a moan out of her. The sound sent a bolt of hot need to his groin. He felt her hold on tighter. He knew her knees were growing weak.

She felt his desire for her bulge against her upper thigh through his trousers, and the hard feel of it evoked another moan, this time from deep within her throat. "William," she whispered in his ear. She swallowed as her voice had become dry with her lust. "Oh my God, William … Please," she said desperately.

His mind flipped over and then all thinking seemed to swirl into a foggy blur. His lips found hers again. He drove his tongue deeply, roughly into her mouth. He so wanted to do the same down lower, where his burning need throbbed against his seams, against his hold on his self-control. Julia broke off their kiss and put her lips to his ear. He fought with all of his might not to fall to his knees when he heard, when he felt, her seductive breath warmly cross his ear into his soul. She demanded, pleaded, "Make love to me William." He hung over the edge of restraint. It was only as her hand moved between them, towards his groin, that he pulled back. With a quake of panic, he remembered where they were.

Not certain that he would be granting her request, but not sure that he would not either, he looked at the office windows. Receiving back predominantly his own reflection, as the stationhouse on the other side was fairly dark, William decided they should close the blinds. As he moved to pull the first blind down, Julia joined him. Soon they had as much privacy as could be garnered in the situation.

Julia watched as William's eyes darted from place to place in the room. The worktable had all of the evidence in the case spread out and organized on it. The desk had the picnic basket and lots of papers, the back room had the photograph developing materials set-up. None of the walls looked clear. He decided the desk was the spot, and he began to hurriedly clear it off. Julia rushed to remove her clothes, soon to be joined by her husband's adept hands. He roughly turned her around and tugged hastily at the strings of her corset.

Finished, she turned back to face him. She insisted he remove his clothes as well. Their eyes joined, wildly calling for each other, each leaning back against the force of the pull of the other, in order to finish the task. His suspenders slid over his shoulders, shirt buttons frantically popped. She felt a surge of hot breath blast out of her nostrils as she watched him reach up and pull his undershirt off over his head. " _Oh my God he's gorgeous_ ," she thought at the sight of his naked chest. Her womb wrenched, cramping her back into an arch and thieving her breath. She gasped, the sound of it bringing William to thrust his pelvis forward, his mastery of self-control breached. Her eyes dashed down to his trousers. She dropped to her knees in front of him. She wanted to feel him, see him, hold him in her hand, take him in her mouth. Feverishly she undid the buttons of his trousers.

William had to steady himself against the desk, placing a hand on it to slow the spinning of the room. His other hand found the back of her head. He reminded himself to be gentle as he pressed her closer to him. His need was verging on explosion, " _Easy William_ ," he coached himself.

She felt the resistance his tight, bicycle-riding, buttocks offered against the back of his trousers and his underwear as she pulled them down. Once the pants had cleared that strong curve of his body, they dove to the floor. Her eyes dilated at the sight of him, exposed and breathtakingly powerful. First she cupped her fingers around him, the touch of his tip pressing up through the middle of her soft fist, forcing William to moan. Her insides burned with the heavenly sound of his pleasure.

Her breath covered him first, then her warm, velvety mouth. " _Oh my God she feels so good_ ," he thought. All of his attention honed in on the tip as he felt her repeatedly push against him and then slide around him. He felt the edge hurl towards him and he immediately stopped her. He guided her to her feet. "Oh my God Julia, I want you," he whispered lustily in her ear. He felt her drop in response, and he added, as he forcefully took a hold of her by her hips, "NOW," he said.

She grew even heavier in his grasp as she weakened and succumbed to her desperate want for him. She moaned as she felt her womb wrench into a tighter twist, threatening to burst with the pressure. He picked her up, placing her buttocks on the cold, smooth desktop. And as he stepped between her upper thighs, and she felt his body tangle into the hair bordering her crotch, and the push in, spreading her and sliding down, and then in, fiercely forcing her to yield and open to him, she believed she might die right there and then. The exquisite pleasure plummeted her into agony. She could bear no more. And yet, with his first demanding, massive thrust, a moan of deep ecstasy rose out of her. As if in slow motion, she felt the pull of him as he withdrew back. He stole her breath with anticipation as she waited for the next debilitating wave of pleasure that would come with the next thrust. " _Oh yes!"_ her brain wailed as it came. "Mmm," she moaned again. And again. "William please," she begged. "Oh my God," she cried with the next thrust. She felt it begin, the tilt toward burning ecstasy. She held her breath, knowing she would fall. William's rhythm hurried now. He rushed to join her, taking her with him as she melted and surged with the sound of his moan in her ear. The edges of her center unfurled as they smoldered in response to the heat, to the friction. The warm, beautiful magma rippled outwards to fill every cell in her body. The pleasure lasted so long, but as it slowed, she pumped against him with her hips, sucking every last drop out of the feeling, the sweet, sweet feeling of being with him.

Harry Murdoch had fallen asleep on his couch, cuddled up next to his bottle, his two guns tucked under his pillow, just in case. He was jerked into consciousness as someone busted his door down, and four masked men flooded into his small apartment. Just as he reached a sitting position, he was punched and knocked back down onto the pillow. Slowly he gathered his wits about him. He reached for a gun. He so hoped he'd taken hold of the right one.

While the other men quickly searched his apartment, the closets, under the bed in the other room, the biggest, and meanest of them stood before Harry and leafed through the children's drawings on his table. "Where are they Murdoch?" the man asked.

"I don't know – but they ain't here," Harry replied.

Soon all four men stood before him, guns drawn. "Old man, it's going to hurt if you don't tell me where they are," the evil one threatened.

"I ain't never gonna say," Harry defiantly proclaimed.

The leader laughed, sending chills down Harry's spine. He was glad Harry had resisted. This was not good. As cool as a cucumber, the man took aim at Harry's leg, and fired a shot into his thigh.

The pain nearly knocked him unconscious. But it wasn't the first time Harry Murdoch had been shot, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last either.

"Tell me where they are," the man demanded through clenched teeth.

Harry pulled out his gun and he said, "I will not be tell 'in you that. Tell my boy I died keeping his children safe!" Harry blurted out, right before he aimed the gun at his head, and pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening as the gun fired. Harry Murdoch lay on his side on his couch, with his head drenched in blood; his eyes stared blankly out into space.

"Damn it," the leader yelled. "You idiots! Why didn't you shoot the gun out of his hand! Now we'll never find them. Damn it!" they rushed out, needing to avoid being seen.

The couple had redressed in their underwear and dined together at William's desk on peanut butter-and-jelly. Julia had some wine. They slept entangled together in his reclining chair. Happiness glowed around them.

 _ **And yet, after a time, their dreams showed them their fears, as each of them awoke, more than once, with a nightmare. These two had been through many traumas, and such traumas haunted the soul sometimes. Their love comforted each other. Neither of them alone. They were together as they knew they should be. Parallel, but not complete. They needed to make the world safe for their children. They were not yet out of the woods, and there was still thunder rumbling, and wind swirling. Taking William's lead, they would choose offense. When they rose, they would listen for the thunder, let their sharp and wide peripheral vision detect the flashes of lightning, locate the source of the storm's force – then move towards it. Now, they were now chasing the storm.**_


	14. Chapter 14 Part 1

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 14: Friday, August 15, 1913 (PART 1)

The stationhouse was dim and quiet in the early hours of the morning. Only one constable was in the station tonight, as two were on outside assignments. Constable Clark had not heard a peep from Detective Murdoch's office for a few hours, the last stirring being when Dr. Ogden went to use the bathroom at about midnight. He speculated that she had had a nightmare, having heard her scream. By the time he'd made it to the detective's door, he heard the detective's voice as he calmly spoke with her. Clark had gone back to his work at the front desk, finding his mind distracted by thoughts about the couple. They had been through so much, even in just this one day they had encountered and endured more than many would in a lifetime. It was no wonder that they had nightmares. He had settled back into his routine, having found time to look into the whereabouts of the two men whose fingermarks were on the rifle Miss Webster had used to try to kill Detective Murdoch.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and although he would not like to admit it, the sound of it startled him. But the _**sight**_ of the man who had come in only raised the levels of adrenalin pumping through his veins. He was an old man – but completely covered in blood. His grey hair was reddish-brown with dried, matted blood. There was blood all over the top of his shirt. He had an obvious bullet wound to his thigh, the trousers torn open – black powder burns could be made out on the pants-leg around the wound. The trousers were so bloodied that he could not discern their original color. The man's eyes flew frantically around the station – he was looking for something or someone specific. He rushed towards the constable, limping and dragging the wounded leg as he scurried. Finally, Constable Clark made out the name he kept screaming out, "Willy."

" _Who the hell is Willy?"_ he thought.

The third time the man called out the name he said it differently, "William,"

And then it clicked in the constable's mind – " _Murdoch,_ _ **William**_ _Murdoch_!"

"Are you looking for Detective Murdoch?" he asked.

The man had reached the front desk and leaned against it heavily, marking it with blood. "Yes!" he hollered, his volume much louder than necessary as Constable Clark was only about three feet away from him. The old man continued, still screaming, "Yes. He's my boy – my son… Willy, are you in here boy?!" he yelled out, once again hunting with his eyes throughout the station. His eyes found Murdoch's closed office door, and then he remembered from so many years ago that that was his son's office. He headed for the office door.

Constable Clark rushed to stop him, not believing that the man could be trusted.

"Willy!...Willy you in there!?" Harry called out.

Both William and Julia had been awakened by the yelling. "That's Harry," William whispered as he quickly used the lever to bring the reclining chair upright. They jumped up and William had opened the door just as Constable Clark had used his baton to block Harry from moving forward.

At the sight of William standing in the door, Julia behind him, both wearing only their scantiest underwear, Harry sounded relieved and yet still excited as he said, "Oh Willy. I've been looking for ya boy."

"Harry! What is it? … What happened to you?" William asked as he rushed to help him. "It's O.K. constable, this is my father," he instructed Constable Clark. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing Harry so injured, or more likely, that now William knew the man had behaved responsibly in caring for his and Julia's children, but for the first time he could remember, William did not feel shame when he introduced Harry as his father.

Julia overruled her feelings of self-consciousness at her state of relative undress, and went to help Harry. "You've been shot," she called out. And what happened to you her head? … Were you beaten?" she asked, trying to decide which injury to treat first.

William wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, and as Harry leaned on his son, they went into the office. William helped him sit on the chair. He moaned in pain as his knee bent slightly.

"Let me look at that, "Julia said. She took a pair of scissors from William's drawer and cut the fabric of the trousers to better reveal the wound.

"No! No! We don't have time for that," Harry declared. "I know where they are!" he said excitedly. Then he looked at William and said, "We've got to get 'em boy."

William asked, "You know where who is?"

"The men who tried to abduct your children – That's who!" Harry exclaimed.

William's eyes sparkled with the excitement of finally getting these men. He could not hide it. A smile grew on his face. It was contagious and Harry and Julia smiled as well. But William also knew they needed to slow down. This would have to be planned out. He took a deep breath and said, "That is wonderful Harry, but we won't be rushing over there right away. Let's do this right."

Harry screamed in pain as Julia explored the wound, "Ouch woman! What in the abomination are you do 'in to me?!"

Julia frowned and sighed and said, looking at William, "That bullet will have to come out."

William nodded and replied, "We'll take him over to the morgue then?"

"Yes," Julia answered. "I'll need to get dressed," she added.

For the first time, all three men realized that she stood in front of them all, wearing only a bodice and bloomers. There was no denying that she looked enticingly beautiful. She quickly gathered up some of her clothes to go in the backroom and dress. She would listen from on the other side of the drawn curtain.

Now that he was also aware that he was wearing only his underwear, William pulled his undershirt over his head and reached for his trousers as he turned his attention back to Harry. "So, tell us what happened," he asked. He pulled the trousers on. They were still dirty from where Julia's muddy dress had rubbed against them while they had hugged yesterday. Constable Clark caught Murdoch's eye and nodded to let him know he was going back to the front desk.

Harry took a deep breath. William knew the story would be grand – his father loved to tell a good tale. He leaned forward in his chair and began, "Well, to start with son, I figured they might come a look 'in for the children, so I was prepared. Now William, you should learn from this – I had made myself my suicide-gun and …"

William stood up taller and crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "And what, pray-tell, is a " _ **suicide gun**_ ," he asked, wrinkling his face up to show his skepticism.

Harry took a firm hold of William's eyes and said, while tapping his index finger on the desk to intensify his point, "That has to be your weapon of choice when you think they're gonna torture you," he explained. You rig the biggest gun you got with some gun-powder for the explosion – and it makes one hell of a bang, I'll tell you," he said cupping his hand to the ear that was covered in blood. William realized that this explained why Harry was yelling, he had damaged his ear drum when he fired the gun next to his head. "Then," he continued, again tapping the desk, "You gotta put in your big red-dye pellet, so that when you fire it, the red dye gets all over you so you look like you're bleed 'in."

"So, you are covered in fake blood then?" William asked.

Julia rolled her eyes in the back room thinking, " _Of course, if that were real blood the man would have to be dead_." She had been struggling with her corset and decided to ask William for help. He joined her behind the curtain.

Harry continued with his story. "So, I had the suicide gun under my pillow on the couch … Course I also had a real gun there too, but when four armed men busted through the door, I knew I wasn't gonna be shoot 'in it out with 'em," he explained. "Now William, this man in charge, he has a real evil streak, I knew he would be the type to enjoy hurt 'in me … and I was right – He shot me for no good reason, I tell ya. So I pulled out the suicide-gun and I told 'em that they wouldn't get anything out of me and I pulled the trigger," he said proudly. He paused, and then added, "Now after that ya gotta keep your eyes real glazed-over like. You can't let your pupils change, so they really think you're dead…"

Harry rambled on about his performance to convince the men he was dead while William helped Julia dress in the backroom. Having finished tightening Julia's corset, he now found it difficult to step away from her. With his arms wrapped around her from behind, he kissed and nibbled on her neck. He had tenderly taken a hold of her breasts through her bodice, and as he lifted and pressed them together, he marveled at how strongly his body reacted to the feel of them – their heaviness in his hands and their doughy malleability. Oh, how he wanted to put his mouth on her. He took her earlobe in his mouth as he found one of her nipples with his fingers and pinched it, drawing it up. Julia's knees grew weak as she heard his warm, demanding breath blow out of his nostrils and flood into her brain. "William," she whispered, although it was unclear whether she was asking him to stop or to keep going. She reached up and caressed his chin and his cheek. "You need a shave," she whispered again.

"Mm," he answered. He slid his hand down over the cursed, bothersome, corset and rode the curves of her rib cage, waist and then hips. She turned to face him and they shared a soft, long, luscious kiss – one of those delicious kisses that swirls the brain and weakens the knees. Their hands needed to slowly move – across the other, to explore and take in the treasured sensations. Her fingers ran through his hair, traveled along the edges of his ears, and his hands down the small of her back, evoking a gasp from her as they encountered her buttocks.

Julia lifted her leg up, and she wrapped it around him, entangling them more. Her voice was intoxicating as she whispered, "I believe you were supposed to help me put my clothes _**on**_ , detective, not take them off."

They hadn't noticed the pause in Harry's story …

"William?" Harry asked, checking to see if he was listening. "William, are you listen 'in?" he asked again. Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled slyly, "Now son, you ain't get 'in distracted by that pretty wife of yours, are you?" Harry teased.

William broke off the kiss, finally having heard his father. He whispered to Julia, "Great, now my father, of all people, is lecturing me about getting distracted from the case."

Julia giggled. "He's right you know," she said, lapping up his raised eyebrow and annoyance at the comment, spurring her to chuckle a little louder in response.

Loud enough that Harry heard them and said, "Well I can't blame ya boy…"

Julia turned William around and pushed him to the curtain. From behind him, she found his ear and whispered, "Back to work now detective," and then stepped back and gave him a playful kick in the buttocks, pushing him back into the office.

Bursting into view, and clearly blushing, William said to Harry, "Sorry," and then cleared his throat and asked him to continue.

Harry proceeded to do so, straining William's patience, as he still had not gotten to the point in the story where he discovered the location of Connor's business. "Please get to the point, Harry," William asked, trying to sound patient and grateful.

Harry frowned and said, "Well, these men had all pulled up in a carriage, and when I knew it was safe … well, they was get 'in away in that carriage, so I had to get my horse out real quick – just put on the bridle, noth 'in else, and thank God, there was no one else out on the street, so it was pretty easy to find 'em. They was head 'in for the docks. I followed all the way down Bowling Avenue till it ends there at the water. They's in one of them there factories at the end," he finished.

Almost finished dressing, Julia emerged through the curtain shortly after William had, only needing to put her hair up, and to put on her shoes. She took a seat in William's chair at his desk. As she quickly braided and then pinned her hair up, she noticed that William's right buttock had a perfectly formed print of her right foot on it. She giggled to herself and shook her head, dropping her eyes and hoping no one would notice her reaction. "I will have to tell him," she thought. With her hair finished, she asked William to bring her the shoes from their bag. When she took the shoes from him, she pulled his elbow to bring him down to her, and she turned her face to whisper in his ear. "You'll want to change into the clean trousers I brought for you … you have your wife's footprint on your derriere," she explained, with a tender kiss and a soft giggle. William stood up and raised an eyebrow at her, feigning annoyance at her mischievous behavior, further melting her heart.

Julia took Harry with her to the morgue; although William insisted that he and Constable Clark accompany them, remembering that she had been abducted while attempting to make a similar trip. He left Clark on guard there and he returned to the station.

Julia helped Harry clean off most of the dye and the blood. His grey hair was stained through, leaving it a pinkish color (generations in the future would call the look "punkish"). She then administered a local anesthetic to his thigh and removed the bullet. She saved it, figuring William might want to use it as evidence. Stitches were required to close the wound. As she worked, they both were fairly quiet, but each found they reflected on the admirable qualities of the other. Harry found Julia to be effective and kind as a doctor. He wondered how a son of his could have made such a good catch. She was truly beautiful … and very wealthy. Now he had already known that, but also highly educated, smart and warm-hearted, these traits impressed him even more than the others – reminded him of the women he had loved as a younger man. For her part, Julia thought about how Harry had, single-handedly, survived the onslaught of these dangerous and brutal men, and then been brave enough, and adept enough, to follow them, without being seen, and help locate their illegal weapons business. She shouldn't really have been so surprised, both of the man's sons were exceptional when it came to intelligence and courage – they had to have gotten it from somewhere.

Back in the stationhouse, William had begun to devise the plan they would use to capture the men. He called and woke up the Inspector (and Margaret unfortunately), Detective Gulliver, and Constable Crabtree, knowing he needed the best minds they had working on the plan. While he waited for their arrival, he found the city plans to try to determine which of the businesses at the end of Bowling Avenue was the one the men had taken their refuge in – which of the factories was the one being used by Connor to make and distribute the illegal weapons.

George arrived first. " _Amazingly dependable_ ," William thought as he turned to see him through his office windows as he entered the stationhouse. "Good morning George," he greeted the man. "We are very close now," he added, his excitement palpable.

"Sir," George nodded. He joined the detective in front of the blackboard.

William had flipped the board over to the side where he and Julia had drawn their parallel lines, and had placed the city plans in the center of the board. Some of the couple's drawings could be seen sticking out around the edges of the plans. He pointed to the place where Bowling Avenue intersected with the shore of Lake Ontario. "Here George," he said. He continued, "Now, it is going to be one of these three factories here … "

George stepped in closer and said, "Well it's not likely this one sir," as he pointed at the left hand side of the road, "This is the textile factory you had us get the warrant for and search through thoroughly. It was clean. There was nothing there, I'm sure of it."

"Then it is one of these two on the right side," Murdoch said.

The Inspector and Gulliver both walked into the stationhouse and joined them in Murdoch's office. The Inspector said, "Well, it was good to get a little shut eye, anyway. How about you Murdoch, did you get any sleep?"

Crabtree and Gulliver shared a look, knowing that the good doctor had showed up after the Inspector had left, and it was unlikely that the detective had gone to sleep right away. They quickly looked away from each other as their smiles grew.

"A few hours," Murdoch answered. Murdoch caught the three men up with Harry's news and then turned back to the plans. "George, pull out the Insurance Documents. Let's figure out what businesses each of these two remaining factories are supposed to be," Murdoch instructed.

While George looked for the records, Dr. Ogden and Harry Murdoch returned form the morgue. Constable Clark stood at the door listening in as well, as they all tried to determine exactly where Connor was running his operation. Julia asked William if he would mind letting Harry wear his dirty trousers and shirt. After he had changed, Harry looked quite presentable in William's clothes, except for the pink hair.

George returned with three huge books of insurance records. He started with the one for factories. "What are the numbers for each facility?" he asked.

Murdoch leaned in closer to the board to better read the plans. "The first one on the right is number 47 and the one closest to the water is 33," he answered.

Crabtree flipped through the pages, stopping and running his finger across the page, "Well the first one, # 47, is the "Edward Partington Pulp and Paper" factory. They make mostly toilet paper sir."

All eyes were on Murdoch. He turned his mind inward and ran all the clues in the case through his head. "That would fit, possibly, with the white cotton fibers found on Flate's and Lynch's clothing," the detective said, but the wrinkle of doubt at the corner of his mouth suggested he was not confident in the connection. He shook his head, "No," he continued, "It was definitely cotton, not paper," he decided. "How about the other one, George?" he asked.

This had to be it. Crabtree found the entry and said, "Number 33 is "Key Typewriters." They make Underwood typewriters…"

The flashes in Murdoch's mind began immediately. He saw in his mind's eye, the typewriter key, an 'A,' that Jane had left hidden in the hospital bathroom, and then he imagined the black ink on the soles of Lynch's shoes, and then also on those of Flate in his closet – and then, finally a fit, the black shoeprints at the prison, as well as those in Jane's room. He'd always expected they were Connor's. "Typewriter ink," he said aloud as he remembered the sight of the black smudges all over the report George had handed him, along with his description of having had fought with the typewriter ribbon. His eyes focused back into the present. He found his wife's eyes and asked, "But what about the white cotton fibers? How would they be consistent with a typewriter factory?"

It was detective Gulliver who figured it out. "Aren't typewriter ribbons made out of cotton?" he asked.

Murdoch responded, "Yes. Yes, I think so." His face lit up as he declared, "Yes – That's got to be the place!"

Brackenreid took charge quickly, "We are going to need to break out the armory. And we're going to need all hands on deck."

"Sir," Crabtree asked, looking to Detective Murdoch, "Wouldn't we be most likely to catch all, or most of the men involved, if we wait till after those who are not living there, or working there at night, show up in the morning?"

"Good thinking, George," Murdoch said.

The Inspector added, "And that will give us a bit more time to get everything we need in place. Crabtree, call in everyone. We'll need a few men to stay back here – but besides that, let's go in there with overwhelming force."

Approaching the time of departure for the raid, Murdoch, Ogden and Harry were in the Inspector's office with the Inspector. Brackenreid went to the cupboard and pulled out his whiskey. Murdoch frowned and looked at his pocket-watch, but Julia caught his eye and gave him a dirty look before he could complain about the early hour and drinking. Before the Inspector had even had a chance to ask, Harry excitedly said, "Now Inspector, you're a man after my own heart!"

The Inspector poured one for himself and Harry. Crabtree knocked at the door as the Inspector pointed the bottle at Julia and said, "Doctor?"

Sitting on the couch next to William, Julia leaned forward and turned her face away from William, and gave the Inspector a quick nod. She could feel William's shocked gaze in the back of her head. She took the glass from Brackenreid and said, turning to George who had now opened the door, hoping to draw William's attention away from herself, "What have you George?" and then immediately downed the whole glass. She was pleased William had looked away for a moment, and when he looked back at her she had a naughty grin on her face. She had already placed the empty glass down on the table at her side, out of sight. William dropped his chin and looked up at her through his gorgeous, thick lashes with a disparaging expression, evoking her to give in to the urge to giggle. She grabbed his elbow playfully and gave it an affectionate squeeze. She saw him yield, knew he loved her, all the more, for eccentricities.

George proudly said, "Well sirs, it turns out we have confirmation that the Key Typewriter factory is the place ... Constable Shaffer just called – he followed Hoyt Obannon to that very spot."

"Good," William declared. "We've got them!"

As the Constabulary pulled up to the Key Typewriter factory in carriages and with a paddy wagon full of men, a bright flash of lightning followed by loud bang of thunder announced the arrival of a deluge. The first few huge drops of rain hit the ground as Murdoch instructed Harry and Julia to stay put in their carriage. Julia frowned, but decided it was not worth troubling William any farther by fighting him about it. " _The frail, little woman will stay put_ ," she thought with a huff.

Alone in the carriage, Julia's instincts told her to duck down out of sight. She lowered herself so that just her eyes could peer out above the carriage door. Julia turned back to Harry and signaled for him to join her. He acquiesced, ducking down a little bit to appear to comply, but Harry had no intention of staying in the carriage. As soon as all of the twelve men had disappeared into the building, he intended to get out and sneak up behind them. He had his real gun, and he had every intention to help, " _William's orders or not,_ " he thought.

Two huge front doors marked the entrance into the factory. However, within each door there was a smaller, regular-sized door for everyday use. The Constabulary made their move. There were two armed men just on the other side of the doors, and the first two constables through the doors had to knock these men's guns down and disarm them quickly, as the others barreled in behind them. It was not a stealthy entrance; their presence was instantly known. The main portion of the factory opened up into a huge open space, with a high, two-story ceiling. Huge rolls of sheets of cotton were stacked at the periphery. To the left of the entrance, there were some machines that were each loaded with a cotton roll, and as the machines turned the rolls, they were sliced into long, thin strips. Behind these machines were those that likely did the job of administering the black ink onto the cotton strips, and then coiled them up onto metal spools, creating the typewriter ribbons. The floor all around these machines was soaked in black ink, explaining the shoeprints. To the right of the entrance, there were multiple other machines. Towards the back there were some machines that put the landmines together, while along the right side there were machines that attached the battlefield-light flares to small parachutes. There was one machine near the front entrance that armed the rows of guns, like the ones used in the attack on Murdoch and Ogden, by sliding a thin, metal bar through the triggers, and aligning another bar along the hammers that would intermittently re-set the guns. In the center of the space, there was a large table and some desks, comprising the administrative hub for the whole operation.

Fortunately, except for the two men at the door, the other twenty or so men appeared to be unarmed. They were either getting ready to work on the various machines, or meeting in the center hub. Murdoch immediately noticed Connor standing at the large table with two other men.

Back outside, and once the Constabulary had gone inside, Harry and Julia saw three men with guns drawn appear from the neighboring factory. They rushed towards the front doors, intending to trap the Constabulary inside. Harry had already opened the carriage door and was spotted by one of the men. He pointed his gun directly at Harry's head and aggressively walked towards him. Julia curled up on the floor of the carriage, hiding. A blinding flash of lightning with an ear-piercing bolt of thunder pounded the air. Harry and the other man were still so close to the carriage that, despite the teeming rain, Julia could hear what was said.

"How many times are we gonna have to kill you, old man?" the armed man threatened. He pistol-whipped Harry, who fell to the ground. The man picked him up to his feet, took his gun, and dragged him by his collar towards the other factory where he had originally come from.

Julia stayed down. She opened the carriage door and quickly stepped out of the carriage. Keeping her head low, she ran for the side of the typewriter factory. She intended to go around back. She discovered a steep embankment behind the side of factory. She slid down the drenched, muddy slope to get down to the water's edge. Then she needed to crawl up on the wooden pilings of the pier to get to the back entrance. The two gigantic doors at the back were closed, but they also had small doors within them for easier access. This back entrance opened up directly onto the pier and was normally used to load up boats. Julia stood huddled against the door in the midst of the storm. Soaking wet, out of breath from effort and from fear, she paused and listened. The storm was too loud. She would not be able to hear anything from inside. If she decided to go in, she would have to do so with no idea what was on the other side of the door until after she had opened it.

The Inspector called out, BELLOWING so as to have any chance of being heard over the storm, "Toronto Constabulary! You are all under arrest." Brackenreid, Murdoch, Gulliver and all of the constables took aim at various men within different points within the large space. Murdoch and the Inspector focused their guns on the men in the center, Connor and the two men who had been speaking with him. The Inspector bellowed again, "Hands up!" just then, as if God was on the Constabulary's side, a monstrous flash of light and colossal bolt of thunder rocked the building. The Constabulary held their nerve, but most of the other men jerked as they startled, quickly throwing their hands up in the air.

Murdoch noticed that Connor had not complied. He took a firm aim at Connor with his gun and yelled out, "Put your hands in the air, Connor, NOW!"

Slowly, Connor lifted his arms, looking to his mates, who did so as well. He wondered how the detective had come to know his name. " _Probably that sneaky bitch, Jane – I knew she was a spy_ ," he thought. Connor saw them, but didn't react. However, the two men next to him changed where they were looking, focusing behind Murdoch and the Inspector.

Just as Murdoch turned to see where the men were focusing their gaze, a gun barrel nudged up against the back of his head and he could hear the gun cock. Two men had come in behind them and had Murdoch and the Inspector teetering on the edge of being killed. "Drop your guns!" one of the men behind them ordered. The Inspector and Murdoch both complied, letting their guns fall to the floor.

Connor called out loudly, "You all had better drop your guns or they will be killed!" Connor pulled out a gun and aimed it directly at Murdoch.

Quickly scanning the scene, there were men all around, most unarmed, but a few also had weapons. The Constabulary, except for Brackenreid and Murdoch, still held their guns.

Murdoch said to his men, "They are going to kill the Inspector and myself anyway," thinking that the Constabulary should hold on to their weapons.

Connor laughed loudly and then said, "That's right, Detective Murdoch. There is still an order out to kill Inspector Brackenreid, but it is no longer necessary to kill you." Seeming to enjoy the drama of the situation, Connor decided to explain why. Screaming loudly to make sure his enemies heard every word, he started his speech…

Julia took a deep breath and leaned her weight down on the door handle. It clicked as it opened. Never stopping her slow, deliberate momentum, she moved in through the small space she had cleared by narrowly opening the door. She was in! With her back to the door, her eyes and ears scanning the wide, open space, she pulled the door closed behind her. Quickly she dropped down behind a large crate of grenades. She perused the area, pausing to come up with a plan, taking a grenade out of the crate just in case. She slipped along behind some more crates and then lay down on the ground. She could see William! He had a gun to his head! The Inspector too. A man's voice droned on and on. She watched William's eyes. He was looking around – trying to discover a way out of the situation. She snuck forward between some rolls of cotton, moving closer to William. Suddenly she halted and crouched down. She saw the man doing all the talking, standing in the middle of the huge building. " _That must be Connor_ ," she thought. He also had a gun pointed at William. " _If I can just get William's attention…_ "

She worried that the two men standing behind William and the Inspector might see her if she moved. She decided to hold her ground and see if William, who was looking around, would spot her. Another big bang and bright flash shook the building as the storm raged on outside. She stood up taller at that very moment, using the startling distraction to temporarily mask her motion.

Her breath caught in her chest – _**their eyes met!**_ His face flashed the contradiction he felt – relief _**and**_ worry. Julia held up a grenade and shrugged her shoulders, signaling to William her question about how to use it.

Aiming his eyes towards the opposite side of the room, hoping to pull eyes away from Julia, William hollered out, "Pull the pin out and then throw it." The man behind him took no chances and smacked William in the back of the head with the gun. William fell to the floor

Julia pulled the pin out, no one spotting her yet, and threw the grenade towards the center of the room where Connor and the other two men were standing. Thank goodness she ducked right away, as the motion of her arm flinging the grenade rapidly drew fire from multiple parts of the building. Constables were still armed and now were firing. Many of Connor's men were armed and were firing. Bullets flew everywhere.

Connor and the two men with him had pulled the big table onto its side, using it as cover. They took aim at Murdoch and the Inspector, but the grenade exploded about ten feet in front of them, blowing all three of them backwards and to the ground. It sounded as if every firecracker shot off in a fireworks display all went off in a matter of six seconds. The building was full of explosives, and inevitably a bullet had hit something live, setting off a massive explosion from somewhere in the back-right side of the building, probably some landmines. The smell of explosives and smoke began to permeate the air – signaling an urgency to get out.

There were many injured men, both from the Constabulary as well as from Connor's men. Higgins had been hit in the shoulder, and Jackson in the chest. Jackson was having trouble breathing. Both the Inspector and Murdoch had been able to take cover behind some cotton rolls. The Inspector yelled to Murdoch, "We need to get out before it blows!"

It was raining very hard, and Murdoch hoped the rain might extinguish the fires. There were two places where the roof had been blown off. He had to find Julia. He took a chance and ran to where he had last seen her. He glanced back towards Connor and saw he had a leg injury. The other two men were helping him – they were moving towards the back doors, trying to escape out onto the dock. They probably had a boat waiting. He scanned the area looking for Julia. He spotted her – she was helping Jackson. There were no longer any bullets being fired, as most men were trying to escape. The constables were capturing many of the men as they ran for the, now open, front doors. Figuring Julia was relatively safe and would be alright on her own, William took off after Connor.

Detective Gulliver had planned on going around to the back of the building to take up a position behind Connor, but the explosion had dropped a piece of a conveyor belt from a machine on him. He had struggled to free himself from the debris. He was not badly injured. He caught sight of Detective Murdoch heading out the back door, presumably in pursuit. He followed.

Julia decided Jackson had a collapsed lung. "Lie still and use as little energy as possible," she instructed. "George!" Julia called out, seeing he had caught and handcuffed one of Connor's men, "I need a board or something to get Jackson out." She took a gigantic needle out of her bag and attached it to a syringe. Jackson's eyes grew large with fear. "Lift your arm please constable," she said. He swallowed and did so, needing some help from her. He winced with the pain. Julia felt around to find the top of a rib, thus avoiding piercing a nerve, artery or vein, and stuck the needle in. She pulled back on the syringe until she found air that had become trapped around the lung, contracting it. She then cut a hole in the syringe so the air would flow out of the cavity around the lung. George and the Inspector showed up with a board. She told them that Jackson would be alright. She looked back into the building. It was smoky. She didn't see William. Alarm spread through her.

Detective Gulliver had run out onto the dock to see some men near the end on the right side. As he stayed low and hurried towards them, the sound of his feet on the wooden floor silenced by the pounding rain, he noticed that one of them was Murdoch. He saw Murdoch get punched to the ground. Gulliver fired a shot at the man standing above Murdoch, hitting him. As he ran forward towards them, they lifted a limp Murdoch up, and tossed his body over the side of the pier. Then the men jumped onto the boat and sped off. Gulliver fired some shots at the boat, hoping to disable the motor to no avail. Looking over the side, down into the water, he spotted Murdoch's body floating face down. Panic began to overtake him – he couldn't swim! "Help! Help!" he cried out as loud as he could, momentarily frozen with indecision. Just as he began to run back to the building, Julia came through the back door.

"Dr. Ogden!" he screamed out running towards her, "Murdoch went over – He's in the water. He's unconscious!"

" _Not again_ ," she thought. Her heart raced. She had to get to him. Her legs carried her faster than she ever thought possible. Gulliver stood up ahead leaning over the railing, pointing down at Murdoch's floating body. "I can't swim," he yelled over the sound of the rain.

Their height above the water evoked a quake of fear in her, but there was no hesitation - She dove in. She had to save him. Gulliver rushed to the closest lifesaver and threw it down to her. She had already rolled William over, but he wasn't breathing. Gulliver spotted a small boat down in the water, tethered to the dock. He used the rope to climb down to the boat, and then used his gun to shoot the rope, freeing the boat. He quickly rowed over to Ogden and Murdoch. They got Murdoch's body into the boat. Then Gulliver helped Ogden climb into the boat. She immediately began intermittently breathing air into William's mouth, and pumping forcefully against his chest. After her third cycle, water spurted out of William's mouth and he began to cough.

Julia nearly fainted with relief. She fell back to sit perched up against the side of the boat, and tried to remain conscious. Her head was spinning. Her body felt as though it weighed thousands of pounds – too heavy to move. Nausea floated up.

Gulliver helped Murdoch sit up and he banged an open hand against the man's back, helping him to cough up the water in his lungs. William's face was bright red from the effort of coughing so much. He was still unable to talk when Julia said, "William," she reached up and rubbed her forehead – she was so dizzy. "William, are you alright?" she asked, sounding both weak and dazed.

He continued to cough, trying to hold her eyes. He so wanted to reassure her. He nodded his head. He saw her respond, knew she felt relief, as she exhaled sharply. She needed to catch her breath too. Finally enough air passed over his vocal chords that he could make a sound. "Thank you," he said, followed by, "Where's my hat?"

Julia laughed, marveling at the irony of the situation. " _Again he wants the hat_ ," she thought. She answered him through her laughter, "It's back in your office… Remember … It's full of bullet holes."

His face was worth a thousand words – so disappointed. He loved that hat.

The three of them rowed to shore and climbed up the steep embankment Julia had used to go around the building. Once they were in front of the building, the mayhem could be assessed. Although the building was still on fire, the flames were now focused at the back of the building. A fire wagon was on the scene. All of the men from the Constabulary were accounted for. Those with the worst injuries – Jackson, Higgins, and Shaffer, had been rushed to the hospital in one of the carriages. The paddy wagon was loaded up with Connor's men, some of whom were also badly injured. They would go to the hospital first, for those with the worst injuries, and then take the rest of the arrestees back to the station to be jailed and questioned. Two of Connor's men had been killed. The carriage from the morgue was on its way.

Murdoch asked Gulliver and Crabtree if they thought they could retrieve some of the weapons inside for him. He wanted a few battle-field lights and some grenades. They already had a landmine in the armory, from when the Inspector had received the package bomb, and they had the racks of self-firing guns from when he and Julia had been targeted at Felicity Rodriguez's crime scene. The two men shared a look. They would do just about anything for the detective. They hurried off and returned quickly with the items he had requested, and packed them above the second constabulary carriage.

Dr. Ogden convinced Inspector Brackenreid, Detective Gulliver and Constable Crabtree to head back to the stationhouse without Detective Murdoch. She wanted him to stay back with her, and then return to the stationhouse in the morgue carriage. She had diagnosed the detective with a concussion, and she wanted to keep an eye on him. He had been hit hard on the back of the head, and on the side of the head. He had also been deprived of oxygen while he was unconscious in the water. She believed he had stopped breathing before they had gotten him into the boat. He had a huge headache, felt nauseous, and most importantly, couldn't remember chasing after Connor, or anything really, since after the grenade went off. He kept asking the same questions over and over again. "Julia, did I see you inside the building?" "Was Connor shot?" "How did I get so wet?" and, the truly most humorous one, and yet, after answering it seventeen thousand times, also the most annoying, "Where's my hat?"

Before the three men boarded the carriage to return, Dr. Ogden asked them to see if they could find any trace of Murdoch's father. She said she had seen a man hit him and lead him off into the factory next door. Upon entering the Toilet Paper factory next to Connor's building, it was obvious that it was part of the illegal weapons business as well. There were crates and crates of weapons ready to be shipped. Harry was nowhere to be found. The whole place had been abandoned, probably because as soon as the shooting started everyone took off to avoid capture. They reported back to Dr. Ogden before they left. There was no blood found in the building, so Harry probably wasn't killed, at least not there.

Julia knew William was out of it because he had not put up a fight about staying with her rather than going back to the stationhouse to question the suspects. However, once they returned to the morgue, Julia needed to perform post-mortems on the two victims, and William fought hard to go over to the stationhouse. She instructed him that, when he could remember the name of the current Prime Minister, she would let him go. Until then, he stayed with her, doctor's orders – and he needed to stay awake. He was feeling very sleepy, and she knew it was dangerous to let him fall asleep.

Over at the stationhouse, the Inspector had decided to send Isabel Webster over to stationhouse #5 so they would have both cells for the nine men they had arrested, as well as Ed Obannon and Mr. Wilson. Inspector Brackenreid and Detective Gulliver prepared for the questioning of Connor's men. They stood with Crabtree, looking over Murdoch's blackboard and all of the evidence he had accumulated on the worktable. They also had much more evidence now, most of the men they had arrested had identification and weapons.

On the blackboard, Brackenreid noticed a note about Murdoch's fingermark being on Isabel Webster's .12 caliber gun. "That's odd, Murdoch is usually exceptionally careful about getting his marks on evidence" he said. George explained that Murdoch figured he had handled the gun, without gloves, whenever its original owner was arrested. Brackenreid figured that made sense, but argued, "Let's keep it to ourselves. Knowing Murdoch's luck, if the press heard about it they would accuse Murdoch of committing the murders of Lynch and Rodriguez."

Detective Gulliver countered with, "No I don't think so, sir. Miss Webster already admitted to killing them."

"True," Brackenreid acknowledged, looking somewhat relieved.

Mr. Meyers walked into the office. "Gentlemen," he greeted them, "Where's Detective Murdoch?" Murdoch's circumstance was explained to Meyers, and then he joined the men in prioritizing who to question, and what to ask. Meyers argued that they make finding the American spy, Jane, a top priority. He explained that he had gone to visit Mr. Clegg in the hospital. Clegg had found the typewriter factory and he had been beaten, quite brutally, by Connor. He claimed that Connor told him Jane was still alive, but he is certain he was hurting her. They also wanted to find out Connor's last name, likely places he would go to hide out, and whether there were any planned deliveries of weapons.

A few hours later, Meyers, Murdoch, Ogden, Gulliver and the Inspector prepared to meet in the Inspector's office. They needed to plan what steps to take next. Before the Inspector and Gulliver joined them, Meyers casually spoke with the couple. He found himself envying Murdoch for his relationship with Julia once again. She cared for him so well, both professionally as a doctor, and lovingly as his wife. Meyers asked, "So how do you know he's still not recovered?"

Julia smiled and glanced over at William, who seemed quite interested in her answer as well. She bounced up a little, excited about the opportunity to share her medical observations. "Well," she said, "He has nearly recovered. For instance, he hasn't asked about his hat for over an hour now," she said with a little giggle. She knew Meyers would not get her joke – it was an inside joke. She looked to see, however, if William did. He gave her that look – the one that always made her laugh, which she did. He had dropped his chin and was looking up at her through his eyelashes with an annoyed look. "William," she declared through her giggles, "You asked where your hat was at least thirty or forty times," she explained. Julia looked back at Meyers and continued, "However, he still cannot name the Prime Minister, so I know he's not out of the woods yet."

Meyers looked to Murdoch and asked, "You don't know who the Prime Minister is?"

William tried, "Bobby something … No, that's not right …" He sighed out of frustration.

Julia leaned over to him, they were sitting next to each other on the couch, and said tenderly near his ear, "Don't worry William … You'll get it soon."

He smiled at her. He didn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable before – maybe when he had completely lost his memory and ran into Anna Fulford's pub in Bristol. But William marveled at how safe he felt with Julia. He was surprised at the ease with which he was willing to totally put himself in her hands. It felt good. She saw it in his smile – It warmed her heart.

Julia turned back to Meyers and added, "Can you imagine my bad luck – I saved William – _**twice today!**_ And he can't remember anything about it." Meyers asked her to describe both times. She did so, watching to see if William seemed to be recovering any memory of the events. He did claim to remember now, seeing Julia in the back of the building with a grenade, nothing else though. She told him –AGAIN – that she had thrown the grenade and immediately afterwards all hell broke loose. He had gotten hit over the head and, at least temporarily knocked unconscious, and everyone with a gun seemed to start firing.

William still didn't remember going after Connor or ending up in the water. But he did say, once Julia got to that point in the story, "That's why I was all wet!" Julia felt a pang of relief; he was regaining his memory.

When the Brackenreid and Gulliver joined them, they shared what they had learned from the interrogations thus far. They had gotten a last name for Connor – Brogan. There was absolutely no record on the man. He had come into the country legally about four years ago. He had never been arrested, and there was no recorded address for him. A couple of his men claimed they had seen him with Jane at the factory once, and it looked like she had been beaten. Brogan never introduced her, and he took her away again rather quickly.

William had stirred with the name 'Jane.' "I remember who she is – Clegg's spy, and his lover," he exclaimed, excited about his increase in memory.

Julia nodded at him. "Good," she said.

Gulliver went on to explain that most of the time Brogan slept at the factory, but that, ever since he had brought Jane by, he had been leaving at the end of the day. They suspected he had her somewhere and was going to her. None of the men knew, or were willing to say, where he was going. "We do have one lead, though," Gulliver continued. "A few of the men mentioned a bar that Brogan liked – "The Wheat Shaft Tavern." Constable Crabtree and Constable Clark have headed over there to see what they can find.

They listened as the Inspector finished telling what they had learned. There was to be a large ship arriving to receive a big order of weapons next week. No one would say from where or exactly when. They also discussed what to do with the confiscated weapons. Meyers and Clegg still seemed to be arguing over whether rightfully belonged to the USA or Canada. Meyers claimed that he intended to claim them for Canada as Clegg was unable to do much about it at this point. Gulliver, an American, expressed his disappointment in Canada's willingness to so easily betray their ally to the south. The Inspector suggested they call the Prime Minister and get him involved in the decision.

William nearly bolted upright. "I've got it!" he declared. Everyone thought he had discovered an important clue – what country Brogan was dealing with, or where Brogan was, or where they might find Jane… But instead Murdock claimed excitedly, "Robert Borden!" and stared intently at Julia. "The Prime Minister is Robert Borden," he explained.

"Yes William," she smiled and replied. "Welcome back, detective," she teased. Oh, how she wanted to play with his tie – kiss him. She exhaled strongly, fighting the urge.

They speculated that they would probably try to set a trap to capture the boat as it arrived next week to collect the supplies. Meyers also wanted to inspect the two factories to see if they could find any of the plans for the weapons. He was sure there were more than the two that he had taken from Murdoch previously. (For a moment, Murdoch wished he had still lost his memory, concerned his reaction might have given away the fact that he had these very plans hidden away in his back room, but no one seemed to notice).

Now that Murdoch had passed his memory test, he was anxious to get to work tracking down Brogan. Dr. Ogden insisted she go along with him, and they planned to first head over to "The Wheat Shaft Tavern." Before they left, Dr. Ogden waited in the bullpen while Murdoch put on his vest and jacket. Gulliver quietly mentioned that he was sorry that they would not have time to watch the Gillies film. Julia said that they should still try; just that it would have to be some other time.

Her appetite having been wetted, Julia flirted and teased her husband mercilessly during the carriage ride to the bar. She could tell he loved it, even though he continued to rush to re-button whatever it was she had just unbuttoned. Suddenly she had an idea. She was going about it all wrong, working to get _**him**_ more unclothed … Of course; she would do much better at breaking through his defenses if _**she**_ were the one getting undressed. " _ **And I'm even wearing his most irresistible dress**_ ," she thought. She moved back, increasing the distance between them. Charmed, she noticed that he still held her gaze as she did so. She reached up, wrapping her fingers around the top, pearly-white, globe-shaped button of her dress. His groin ignited. She saw it in his face as his eyes darkened with desire, she herself becoming extremely aroused in turn. The dress was tight, so the button popped free, leaving the fabric at the top pulled widely apart. She reached for the next button. He stopped her, wanting the pleasure for himself. Julia's breath had been taken. Her insides flipped over; her head spun with lustful need for him. She longed to feel his hands on her, his mouth on her. My God, how she wanted to hear his hot, demanding breath barrel over her ear, and feel the weight of his body pressing down on top of her. She felt dizzy as she imagined him rhythmically pushing deeper and deeper into her. She moaned hungrily as he brought his face down to the cleavage between her breasts and pushed them together, her soft, delicious skin being enticed by the warmth of his cheeks. She dug her fingers into the back of his head and pulled him deeper into her bosom. "William," she whispered huskily.

"Whoa," they both heard the carriage driver call out to the horse. They knew they would have to stop. Both out of breath, William pulled back, and Julia took to quickly re-buttoning her dress. They instinctively knew to keep their eyes off of each other for a moment – to recover.

As soon as they walked in the small, dark tavern, they knew that the constables were no longer there. It was empty, except for the bartender and one very old man sitting at the bar. Figuring they had already been questioned, they decided to forego asking the men about Brogan or Jane. They took a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey and a spruce beer. Not wanting to waste much of their precious time, Julia downed the whiskey in one swallow and William took a few quick sips of his drink. They left quickly. From outside, Julia noticed that there were some homey-looking curtains in the upstairs windows. She pointed them out to William. "Perhaps someone rents it – sleeps up there," she suggested.

William decided they should check around the back. The small back area behind the bar consisted of a narrow path that ran right along the back of the building. It opened up into a slightly wider space for some garbage bins. But behind all of that, there was a very high wooden wall – nearly 10 feet high. William came up with a plan. He held his hands cupped together and Julia stepped into them, placing her hands on top of his shoulders at first for balance, but then leaning against the wall. She reached up as he lifted her foot higher, until she grasped the top of wall.

She knew, from the moment she could see over to the other side, they had found something. It took her brain a moment to catch up with her eyes – the sight was so unimaginable, and yet, there it was true as life. Jane laid on her side, curled up in a fetal position, hands and feet bound, she was naked, and covered in bruises and dirt, and some dried blood. She wore a dog collar around her neck and she was tethered to a small dog house. Her rib cage moved as she took a weak breath. " _She's alive!_ " Julia thought.

The door in the wall was well-hidden, located behind the property and blended in with the wood grain of the wall. William and Julia crouched down next to her, like they so often do next to a dead body. Julia softly touched Jane's shoulder and called her name. Her face was very bruised and swollen, making it difficult to tell that she had opened her eyes in response to Julia's touch. William pulled out his pocketknife and cut the ropes binding her feet, then moved to the other side of Julia to free her hands. As he reached to unbuckle the dog collar, Jane cleared her throat and feebly coughed. William paused, but then went back to completely liberating her from the ties.

Jane cleared her throat again and said faintly, "So it's the handsome, married, detective who will save me then?"

William and Julia shared a look, both amazed that a woman in such a battered state could speak so clearly and rationally. Julia said, "You are very badly hurt, but we've found you now."

"Is this the wife you spoke of?" Jane asked a she made an attempt to move, wincing in pain and abruptly halting.

William stood up, giving room for Julia to care for the badly injured woman better. "Yes, she's a doctor. She can help you," he said reassuringly. He left to call for an ambulance.

Julia was frustrated by her lack of a medical bag, and her resulting feeling of helplessness. She could tell that there were some broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, probably some broken facial bones, and quite a few severe cuts that would have required stitches, but now scar tissue had formed along the edges. Unfortunately, some of the lacerations were infected. As Julia worked to assess and treat her, Jane explained, "You should know, I shamelessly seduced your husband … He seemed tempted." In her current state, Jane did not appear to be very alluring, and Julia's call to be jealous was not alerted, but then she remembered the woman's photograph, and then William's description of his dream, and his guilt, and she felt the awful emotion taking hold. She despised the feeling. She blew some air out roughly through pursed lips, trying to blow off some of the steam.

Jane swallowed, Julia recognizing she was likely very thirsty. There was some water in a dog bowl, most probably from the rain. She brought her some. Julia helped her lie her head back down and Jane spoke again. "He is very true to you, Julia. You deserve to know that, from someone who can tell," she said. Julia was surprised the woman knew her name. William returned and stood behind them. It was unlikely that Jane knew he was back when she added, "Alan tells me that Meyers has quite a thing for you… Spies, they are such lonely people." She sighed.

William noticed his fists curl up instantly thinking of Meyers and his wife again. It particularly annoyed him that it seemed that Alan Clegg knew of Meyers' feelings. He wondered if they had spoken about it. He battled with himself to trust and to let it go. Julia asked William to get her the dog-leash that had been used to tie Jane to the doghouse. He helped her to sit Jane up so that she could relocate her shoulder. She used the leash to make a sling. "I think you have a broken hip, and I'm worried you may have some broken vertebra as well. You will need to move as little as possible until the ambulance gets here," the doctor explained.

William squatted down next to both of them again and said, "They are going to take you York General Hospital. That is where Clegg is." He realized that Jane might not know that Clegg had been looking for her, that he had been beaten as he tried to find her and save her. After he told her, she started to cry. It was apparent that Jane cared as deeply for Alan Clegg as he cared for her.

While they waited, Jane explained that she had behaved so enticingly with William because she needed him _**not**_ to talk – _**not**_ to identify himself as Detective Murdoch. Jane knew who Murdoch was, and she thought Connor probably hadn't recognized him from behind. Connor had said that his boss wanted him to kill Murdoch.

William clarified, "So Connor had a boss?" he asked. Jane claimed to know nothing about him, except that he was the only one in the world that could control Connor. He was the cruelest, craziest, and most violent man she had ever met. Murdoch wondered if the boss might have been Clegg, but then things had gone awry when Brogan kidnapped Jane. More times than not, Clegg had been double, or triple-crossing them in the end. Murdoch definitely didn't trust the man, although, he had seen Clegg's authentic panic when it came to getting Jane back. Perhaps he was not as heartless as William had thought.

When they got back to the station, Murdoch questioned the men that had been arrested at the factory. He learned that Mr. Lynch had worked for Brogan. He had not shown up to work a couple of weeks ago, fitting with the time he was killed. Murdoch also gained conformation that Brogan did have a boss. The man had never been seen, no one knew his name, or anything about him. However, they were certain he existed because they had heard Brogan speak of following orders. Murdoch was reminded that Brogan himself had said that there was an order out to kill the Inspector during the brief standoff in the factory.

In the mid-afternoon, William and Julia sat together at his desk sharing a late lunch. William's mind toiled with the case. They needed to find Brogan. And now he was worried about whom the head of this whole organization was. Julia found her eyes dwelling on the desk. Memories flowed through her – she and William had made love right there last night. She marveled at the fact. She really never thought William would do such a thing. She still found it very hard to believe. She realized that he had been talking, and she had not been listening. He was asking her a question – she had no idea what. Slightly embarrassed, she lifted her chin to meet his eyes. God she loved him. "Sorry William. What did you say?" she asked.

He could be obtuse, but as he asked himself what could be distracting her, he remembered last night too. He blushed. He leaned back and opened his mouth to say something, but the thoughts disappeared with the rush of heat.

"William," Julia teased, for she knew why he was blushing, "Have you lost your memory again?"

He cleared his throat, hoping it would allow his voice to come out sounding normal. He swallowed for good measure. "No, um no. I remember quite well," he said with a smile that melted her through and through. He glanced down at the edge of the desk where they had made love. Then he lifted his eyes back to hers and added, "Thank goodness," with a chuckle, causing himself to blush again.

Having finished eating, they cleared off his desk while they talked. William claimed he remembered most of the events Julia had described to him, except ever being in the water. He walked around to Julia's side of the desk and rested his buttocks down on the edge of the desk, placing his hands in his pockets. He said, lustful suggestions in his tone, "And I remember very clearly, that you, my dear did not listen to me."

Julia stood from her chair and put her hands on her hips. She was feigning anger, but she was quite convincing. "I do not work for you… And you cannot order me about like some constable," she insisted.

"Mm," he replied, "That is a problem." He held her eye, a mischievous twinkle sparking her soul.

Julia gave him a playfully shove, "Well now, William Murdoch, I did save your life – _**Twice**_ ," she said. Her fingers traced along his shirt collar, calling every cell in his body to alert.

He stood up, took her hips in his hands, and felt that delicious, dizzying swirl start to spiral in his brain. Winsomely, he whispered, his breath crossing her ear, teasing her insides into a warm tug, "You, Julia Ogden, save me every day. You make my life whole. Remember, always remember, you are my parallel." He kissed her, feeling enchanted by the spinning and floating in his body as she melted into him. They fit together so perfectly, right here and right now, they knew that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

 _ **The storm's danger had blown past. The sky had cleared, warm sun now shining on their backs. Life offered them a rainbow – they basked in its beauty while they could, for rainbows, like everything else in life, are temporary and fleeting. And rainbows only exist when the Sun is behind you. Thus, it was sunset that loomed ahead, bringing with it inevitable dusk, and then darkness. They had found a clearing, but they were not yet out of the woods.**_


	15. Chapter 14 Part 2

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 14: Friday, August 15, 1913 (PART 2)

One of Harry's pigeons brushed against William's office window, drawing the couple's attention and prompting them to break off their kiss. As they both turned to the window, Julia said, "It's not bad enough that Constable Crabtree or Higgins constantly interrupts our romantic moments, but now we have to put up with Harry's pigeons too." She was rewarded with a tiny chuckle from William for her joke. Then she remembered that William probably didn't know what had happened to his father. She explained that he had been taken into the neighboring factory by one of Brogan's men during the Constabulary's raid. He was missing. William noticed that one of the pigeons had a message. Julia caught it, and they read the note. It said that Harry's captor had run off once the shooting had started. Harry was going to go to the children – he wanted to protect them from any potential danger. William took a seat in his chair. He looked worried.

"Do you think the children are in danger William?" Julia asked, still holding the pigeon.

He sighed and replied, "Brogan escaped, as did many of his men. And by all accounts, he is a vicious, ruthless man." He wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, he paused waiting for her thoughts.

Julia answered, "There doesn't seem to be any evidence suggesting he has learned where they are … And any chance of him having a place to run his business has been wiped out. He's on the run now. Do you think he would risk capture to try to find _**our**_ children?"

The image of Jane, so brutalized, insulted and degraded, flashed across William's mind. He frowned and said, "I don't think the man is _**sane**_ Julia. Look at what he did to Jane." Nausea crept up in William's gut. It was spurred by fear, and William knew if he was going to get a handle on the emotion, he would have to chase after the thought that incited it. " _The most dangerous criminals are the ones who don't care if they themselves die_ ," that was it, that was the thought that frightened him so. He explained to her, "Julia, when someone lacks the instinct of self-preservation, you can no longer predict what they will do. Such people are truly the most dangerous adversaries one can have." Their eyes met, but by the time they had, Julia believed she saw anger in his eyes rather than fear. He exhaled, working to calm his emotions. "You are right, though. It is very unlikely that Brogan has, or ever will, come to learn where we have hidden them. And, at least for now, he is probably busy trying to ensure his escape." He took another deep breath, the nausea had passed, as had the urge to clench his jaw and draw his fingers up into fists. "I think they are safe," he concluded with a nod.

Julia's worry appeared to be eased – she trusted no one more than William. "That's a relief," she said. Her eyes dropped down to the pigeon. William's eyes followed. "Do you want to send a message to Harry?" she asked.

William had been thinking about how Harry had redeemed himself throughout this ordeal. He was considering giving him a chance. " _Maybe it's still too soon,"_ he thought.

Julia read his thoughts. She saw a softening in her husband. She considered suggesting they offer Harry some sort of kind, appreciative gesture – but her body reacted nervously to the thought of bringing the idea up to William. It had been a pretty big fight between them. " _It really needs to be his idea_ ," she thought. She just smiled at him.

He sighed. "I was thinking, um, perhaps we could invite him over to the house sometime, once all this mess is sorted out," he said. He lifted his big brown eyes to hers, his pupils wide, trying to read her reaction.

Julia's heart did a little jump for joy. William's resilience, willingness to hope and expect goodness – even in the face of so much awfulness, always amazed her, warmed her soul, soared her spirit. In so many ways, he really was a marvel, a marvelous marvel. Her face took on a playful, loving look and she said, "If I weren't holding this pigeon, you would be in quite some trouble – I'm not sure I could keep my hands off of you, William Henry Murdoch."

They sent the pigeon with a message, even though they were unsure Harry would ever get it. It was an invitation to Sunday dinner – as soon as the family was safely back in their home. Julia released the bird out the window. "Whew," she declared once it was gone. She bumped menacingly into William's shoulder and admitted, "I was terribly worried it would soil your office. I don't know why …

" _Did she just wink at me_?" he thought.

She razzed him, continuing, "But I do believe you would have blamed me."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and forcefully pulled her body to his, bending her lower back into an arch, and sending some of her dangling curls into a breezy sway. "Well, you are the 'pigeon whisperer' between the two of us, are you not?" he asked, but did not give her a chance to reply, for he took a tender hold of her head with his other hand and seized a kiss – a slow, deep, magnificent kiss. He so loved the feeling of having her become weak in his arms, dropping and growing heavy. She wrapped her arms around him, needing to steady her swirling world.

Predictably, there was a knock at the door … They stopped their kiss, sharing a roll of their eyes up to the heavens with each other. William kept his arm around his wife as they turned to face Constable Crabtree at the door. Murdoch asked, "What have you George?"

"Sorry sir," George uttered, though after years and years of interrupting them, his apologies had become less heartfelt. "The Inspector asked me to tell you that the warrant to search the premises of the Wheat Shaft Tavern has arrived. And Constable Townsend has brought in the bartender as you requested. He's in the interview room," he finished.

"Thank you," Murdoch replied. Crabtree went back to his desk. "Duty calls," William said to Julia.

She reached up and stroked her hand across the muscles of his chest, "Until later then, my love," she whispered. She picked up the newspaper from his desk and caught his eye to let him know she intended to take it with her back to the morgue. He nodded.

During the interview, the bartender admitted that Brogan did rent the room upstairs, but only for the last few weeks. The bartender himself had lived there prior to that, but when Brogan said he needed a place, the man had agreed to stay with his mother until Brogan no longer needed to use his place. Brogan paid him – cash, and, as the apartment was included as part of his pay, he was pocketing the extra money. He had no idea there was a woman staying there, although he did confess to hearing moaning, at times from upstairs and he acknowledged, from the back area as well. He was sickened by his own behavior. He wanted to know if the woman would be alright. He wanted to let her know he was very sorry for looking the other way. Brogan intimidated him, and he had not had the courage to do the right thing.

Back in the morgue, Julia called Judith's number, hoping to speak with the children. She missed them terribly, and felt guilty that they had to spend so much time without their parents. Judith answered the phone. The children were outside playing under Claire-Marie's watchful eye. Before she went to get them, Julia asked her if William's father had come to her house. She said he was there. He was staying out in the old barn. She said that Harry watched over the place, often up higher on the hill, from the woods. She said he had a rifle that he carried with him. She had not seen any evidence that he was drinking – no discarded bottles of alcohol, and his behavior seemed sober. Julia was relieved after William had just sent him a note via pigeon, offering him his trust, inviting him back into their home, into their family.

She spoke with each of her children. They no longer cried when they spoke with her, seeming to have adjusted somewhat to the situation. Their biggest compliant was boredom, having left all of their toys, bikes, and even their neighborhood friends, back in Toronto. They were enjoying playing in the country environment as much as possible – tree climbing and exploring. Katie had fallen out of a tree yesterday and had gotten a concussion. She seemed proud of the story, especially after she learned her father had just withstood the same injury.

After Julia hung up the phone, she focused on the newspaper. Her story about being forced into having an abortion made front page news. " _Well, at least it has awakened people to the possibility that there may be circumstances to consider when prosecuting the crime_ ," she thought, " _That accounts for something_."

Murdoch brought Detective Gulliver and Constable Crabtree along with him to search the bartender's apartment. William noticed that there were a few of the now-familiar black shoeprints on the floor in the apartment. Gulliver said he himself would likely have had similar prints on the bottoms of his shoes from walking near the inking machines in the factory, except that the wet ground outside, from the rain, washed the ink away. Murdoch's mind ran a memory that still bothered him – seeing the black marks in the visiting room a t the prison. Brogan could not have been visiting Webster – she had already escaped, taking Miss Ward's identity. " _Who could he have been visiting?"_ he thought. " _Perhaps the …"_

"Sir," George called, pulling Murdoch away from his thoughts. He had found a trunk full of weapons, mostly guns and rifles, but there was also a battlefield light and a few grenades. There were marks on the floor suggesting a similar-sized trunk had been removed. Murdoch speculated Brogan couldn't take both in his rush.

"Let's take them back to the station and check for fingermarks – the trunk too," Murdoch decided. In a dresser drawer, they found some newspaper clippings. They took them back to the station as well. Most of them seemed to be about Constabulary members, all the recent events such as attempted killings – even Julia's ordeal with the abortion charges. Brogan had likely spent the night there as recently as last night.

They decided to also investigate the typewriter factory and the toilet paper factory because Brogan had only been staying at the bar for a few weeks – reportedly he had stayed at the weapons building facilities prior to that. The fire had damaged much of the evidence in the typewriter factory. In what was most likely Brogan's room, William found Chelsea's stuffed bear in the closet. Somehow, the sight of the little toy tugged at his heart more than he had expected – its survival through such an ordeal reminded him of the little girl suffering without it, without them. He wrinkled his mouth at the internal thoughts. As he lifted the stuffed animal, he became self-conscious, realizing there was really not a manly way to hold such a thing. Concerned about it, his eyes glanced abruptly up to George's. The warm smile returned to him by George reassured him. William took the little bear under his arm and continued looking through the other items in the closet. They also found some of Jane's things. They took them along with them to the station, planning to have a constable bring them to her at York General Hospital.

There was evidence that another man also lived in the room with Brogan – two different sized shoes in the closet and two different brands of cigarettes in the ashtrays. Gulliver remembered that there were two men who escaped with Brogan in a boat, when Murdoch had been thrown unconscious off of the pier. "Perhaps one of the men is particularly close with Brogan, a mate, a brother, maybe a lover?" Gulliver suggested.

Murdoch wanted to see if there was any evidence left behind on the pier. He also wondered if it might spur his memory, as this seemed to be the only part of the day he had not regained memories from. There was a trail of blood, likely from whatever wound had injured Brogan in the right leg. At the far end of the pier, where the boat that the men used to escape had been tethered, they found a few scuff marks on the wooden floor.

George leaned against the railing and looked over at the water. "My, that is a long drop. Did Dr. Ogden really dive into the water from here?" he asked.

Still impressed, Gulliver replied, "It was amazing. She handed me her shoes, stepped up on the railing and just … dove off. I couldn't really believe it!"

William joined them, leaning his head over to see the distance down to the water. The leap into the water truly had been great, his stomach flipped over just imagining doing it. He still could not remember any of it. "Well," he added, "She is quite a remarkable woman. That is the second time her expertise as a swimmer, and then as a doctor to resuscitate me, has saved my life."

Gulliver said, "You know sir, I don't think you give the power of her love for you enough credit. I do believe she would have done anything to save you. In many ways, that's what I find remarkable." The three men were quiet for a moment, each was thinking about the truth of Gulliver's words. Then Gulliver switched the location of his gaze and pointed out the boat he had used to get Murdoch's body out of the water. It was still up on the shore over by the side of the building. The moment William saw it there, he remembered struggling with the slippery mud as he climbed up the embankment. He was excited to recover at least some part of the experience.

The stationhouse was still bustling, even after the usual time that most of the men would have headed home. They sensed they were close to catching Brogan, and they were charging full-speed ahead to try to ascertain who Brogan's boss likely was. One constable looked through records of Murdoch's old arrests, trying to find anyone who had been arrested with a .12 caliber gun. Others searched for matches to the myriad of fingermarks pulled from the guns taken during the raid on Brogan's illegal weapons business and the new trunkful of guns found in his room over the bar. The Inspector had gone to visit Jackson, Higgins and Shaffer in the hospital.

Julia sat at William's worktable, now cleared of much of the evidence he had been working with, taking it easy, reading through the rest of the paper while William worked. They had decided it would be safe enough now to spend the night in their own home, and she was waiting for him. She was coming to realize, however, that it might be a very long wait. Looking at their packed bag of dirty clothes, and the now recovered Berry Bear, she asked if he thought she should head home to get some clean clothes for tomorrow, and they would just spend the night here instead. William so very much wanted to go home. He asked her to be patient – he would try to finish up for the day soon.

Julia found an advertisement for the Hot Air Balloon Show in the paper. Excitedly she interrupted William's reading of the files of his past arrests and exclaimed, "Oh William! Wouldn't the children love this – Reginald Poundset's Hot Air Balloon Show. It's this weekend… just outside of town. I'm sure he would be willing to let us go up in a balloon!"

William felt a happy tingling all over his body. His wife's enthusiasm always had this effect on him. He didn't want to dampen her hopes, but he didn't think they should bring the children home until Brogan had been caught. Julia argued that they may never catch the man – should their children remain in hiding for months, or more, if that's what it took? William was running the various scenarios through his mind when Crabtree knocked at the door.

George looked excited. "Sir, it turns out that many of the fingermarks on the weapons confiscated from Brogan's men match those of the dead O'Shea brothers," he said.

Julia watched as William's face shifted from puzzled to electrified. "Now that seems like more than a coincidence!" he declared as he stood to look at the list of weapons in George's hand. "And one of the O'Shea's had their marks on the rifle Isabel Webster used too," he added. There had to be an important connection between the O'Shea's and Brogan somehow.

Just then, the Inspector came in the front door of the station. He had barely crossed the bullpen when he called out for Murdoch. He joined Crabtree at Murdoch's door. His energy had drawn the attention of everyone in the stationhouse. "Well, me old mucker … Thanks to Higgins' bullet wound to the shoulder, I have figured out why you can't find anyone who you arrested who had a .12 caliber gun," he started.

"Oh?" William asked.

"Because _**you**_ were not the arresting officer – I was!" he exclaimed.

"But sir," William protested, "It was my print on the gun, not yours?"

"Oh, you were there… I even remember that it was you who picked up her gun," he said, pausing to see if Murdoch would get it on his own.

The detective's mind was racing. Everyone watched, recognized the introspective look he was now so famous for. After a few moments, his eyes refocused on the Inspector's. They sparkled with excitement. He held up a finger, asking the Inspector to wait – to let him say who the owner of the gun had been. "Cecily McKinnon! Of course… Of course!" he declared. "It explains my fingerprint on the gun – she had shot you with it. And all of the O'Shea fingermarks on Brogan's weapons – they had handled those same guns when they worked for her … Even Brogan's shoeprints in the visiting room at the Don Jail – He was visiting McKinnon! Cecily McKinnon, she's the one behind all of this …" Murdoch declared, "The weapons deals and the attempts on our lives," he explained.

"Crabtree," Brackenreid said, "We need Cecily McKinnon's file."

Murdoch continued his thoughts, "She was running the whole thing from within the prison." He re-connected his look with that of the Inspector, "I wonder if she ever really stopped running the harbor underworld after all?" he asked.

"Perhaps not," Brackenreid acknowledged. "I am surprised she could yield such power though, having been sentenced to life inside," he added.

Julia jumped into motion. She remembered something. The pages of the newspaper turning rapidly, she said, "William! I think, um … Here it is – right next to the advertisement for the Balloon Show – The women are being moved from the Don Jail to the new Kingston Facility …" she paused, skimming the news story. " _ **Tomorrow!**_ " she announced, lifting her face, finding his eyes. "Do you think …"

William finished her thought, "She is planning to escape!" Murdoch urgently looked at the Inspector. "All of this … mayhem – It was meant to throw us off our game. To ensure her successful escape!" he impelled.

Crabtree knocked hurriedly on the door. He held McKinnon's opened file in his hands. "Sirs!" he insisted, "Guess what Cecily McKinnon's full name is?"

The Inspector raged, "Bloody hell Crabtree! Get to the point man!"

George paused, for dramatic effect, then slowly read the name out, "Cecily Brogan McKinnon," he said, nodding as if he had shared a shocking secret.

Julia said it out loud first, "Brogan is her brother!"

Murdoch grabbed the phone and said, "We need to alert the warden. Brogan is still out there – he has plenty of men. They are probably going to try to pull-off the escape tomorrow, during the transit!"

All eyes watched as Murdoch spoke with the warden. His eyes bugged out of his head as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, "What?!" he yelled. " **Tonight!** " he repeated. "We think they have planned to execute an escape while McKinnon is being transported to Kingston…" Murdoch nearly gasped as he listened to the warden's reply. "What!? … How many Paddy Wagons? How many guards?" he demanded. "Yes, yes. Send more after them! We'll rush out now," he said, and then hung up the phone.

"Bust out the armory, lads!" the Inspector charged. "All men – Get every horse and carriage we have," he added.

Murdoch suggested, "Sir, I think we'll need the paddy wagon. They are transporting over twenty women tonight."

Constable Townsend called out to the Inspector, "Got it sir!" and rushed to the stables.

William noticed that Julia stood at the ready to join them. All eyes turned to her as he said, "Julia! You can't go."

She looked taken-aback. "William!" she began to argue.

"Your parole – You have to stay within the confines of Toronto city limits," he explained.

She dropped her chin, exhaled sharply, reminding him of a bull about to charge, and discerningly answered, "Be careful William … This is a "sleeping-on-the-couch" decision."

If the air were not so charged with drama, the Inspector might have laughed at the man's predicament, but they were in a hurry. "I guess the good doctor is coming along then," he suggested, his fatherly eyes on Murdoch. William nodded.

The sky loomed vast and dark as dusk overtook it. There would be no moon tonight – visibility would be a factor. Two Constabulary carriages galloped down the main road towards Kingston, trying to make up for lost time. About a mile back, the paddy wagon hurried forward as best it could. The second carriage was cramped, holding Brackenreid, Murdoch, Dr. Ogden, Gulliver and Crabtree. Even with Dr. Ogden sitting on her husband's lap, Gulliver and Crabtree had to sit at the edge of the seat to fit. Murdoch filled them in on the warden's description of the prisoner transfer plans. There was a carriage of guards at the front and at the rear of the convoy. In between these carriages were two paddy wagons with about 10 women each inside. There were three guards traveling atop of each paddy wagon – the driver and two armed men with rifles at the ready. The precautions sounded fairly secure, and by changing the planned time of the transit to be earlier than advertised, they hoped that Brogan would not even know to make his move tonight.

Dr. Ogden had an arm around her husband's neck, and he had both arms wrapped around her and his hands clasped in her lap. They sat next to a window. She found it odd to be outside with him when he was not wearing his hat. She realized, as they headed into a new danger, that she didn't know how he had gotten the bullet holes in his trusty homburg. The other men seemed engaged in conversation, so she turned her lips to William's ear and asked how his hat had become damaged so. She could tell by his worried look and his hesitation in answering that his life had been in danger, and that he didn't want to worry her. "William," she said, with a slight warning in her tone.

He took a deep breath and answered, "It happened when we were in the process of investigating a crime scene and apprehending Miss Webster." She held his eye and waited, expecting more. He shifted in his seat, moving her about some in the process. Looking uncomfortable he said, "Let's talk about it later?" and he wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, asking her to be patient.

She sighed, letting off some of the steam of her frustration. Julia gazed out the window. They passed the sign for the Balloon Show. It was very dark, but a few of the huge, inflated balloons could be seen at the ready for the opening tomorrow morning. It was too dark to be able to make out their colorful patterns, but still, her insides felt a twinge of excitement at the memory of flying in the bright orange and yellow balloon so many years ago – flying with William, being reunited with William. Her lips floated over his ear again to tell him, "We just passed Reggie's Balloon Show…You know William, I don't think I had ever wanted anything more in my life than I wanted you to jump in that balloon with me."

She could feel him raise an eyebrow as he nodded, and easily finding her ear near his mouth, he replied, "I'm glad I made it."

The carriage slowed as the driver yelled back, "There's something in the road up ahead… Something is on fire!" The Inspector and Murdoch shared a look. "It's going to be Brogan," the Inspector said. The road in front of the convoy had experienced an explosion, leaving a gigantic hole which blocked the two paddy wagons and the rear carriage from advancing forward. The first paddy wagon was in flames, seeming also to have had a small explosion in the front, where the driver sits. The horses were missing, likely freed as the explosion severed them from the harness. There were five or six dead guards scattered about. According to Dr. Ogden, two of the men had been shot in the head, while the others had a mix of injuries, likely from the explosion, and from being shot as well.

Both paddy wagons had been broken open and were empty. The sounds of guards yelling to each other and occasional gun fire rang out from the surrounding darkness. "We need to be able to see!" Murdoch shouted to the huddle around him. Suddenly his face lit up. Instantly they knew he had an idea! "Gulliver … George – are the battlefield lights and the grenades still in the other carriage?!" he asked.

"Yes sir, I believe so," George answered as he rushed to see. Excitedly he called out, "Yes sir!"

"Good," Murdoch said. He turned and focused on Julia. It was clear she was somehow at the center of his plan. "Julia!" he said as he took hold of her by her shoulders. She nodded. "Do you think you can still fly a balloon? The wind direction is right, and it is blowing fast…"

"Yes, of course," she replied before he could finish his thought. "Do you think that I could set-off a battlefield light from a balloon?" she asked. William nodded. He showed her how to set-off the light and Dr. Ogden and Detective Gulliver took the constabulary carriage, already loaded with the battlefield lights and grenades, and dashed back to the Balloon Show. They would fly a balloon over the prisoner escape area and ignite one of the battlefield light flares. They brought all of the arsenal along just in case.

The rest of the Constabulary, except for the Inspector and Murdoch who stayed at the central location of the disabled convoy, spread out to try to help re-capture the prisoners. The Inspector found two women's prison dresses in the rear paddy wagon. "McKinnon," was all he said to Murdoch. She would no longer be wearing a prison uniform.

Murdoch thought for a second and then said, "Most likely dressed as a guard sir, to make her less noticeable as she tried to escape."

The Inspector held up the other dress, "She's not alone," he added. A few guards and constables started to return, having captured some of the escaped women. They loaded them in the paddy wagon, expecting the warden's back up team to arrive soon.

Silently and suddenly, a magnificent light brought the whole area into view. " _She's done it!_ " Murdoch thought. He looked up at the sky for Julia's balloon; all the men present did the same. She was not as high as he expected, but still, he was unable to make her or detective Gulliver out in the basket.

The Inspector stood next to him and quietly said, "Your wife is quite something me old mucker."

"That she is sir," William proudly replied. With the new illumination, they found three women hiding in the bushes near the convoy and caught them as well. Soon eleven women were back in captivity. But then things turned. Crabtree was hit by a bullet, and it was suddenly apparent that Brogan's men were out there as well. Immediately the Inspector ordered his men to drop and check their surroundings. His command was yelled from man to man. All quiet, everyone laid low, looking, listening. Murdoch had no idea how much longer the light would enable them to see. The same wind that carried Julia to them so quickly was also rapidly carrying the parachute holding the flare away as well. Bringing Brackenreid and Murdoch great relief, four carriages showed from the Don Jail. There was also another paddy wagon close behind. Some of the guards had blood hounds to help locate the escapees. If Brogan's men were still about, they likely took off, now clearly outnumbered.

Up in the balloon, Dr. Ogden and Gulliver relaxed a bit after having accomplished their mission and illuminated the area. The wind was carrying them where it would, but Julia had lowered the blower, planning to start their descent back down to the ground. She asked detective Gulliver what had happened to William's hat.

"Oh," he replied, "I guess things have been so crazy he hasn't had time to tell you."

" _Perhaps,_ " Julia thought. " _The young man has come to be quite loyal to William in the end,"_ she added to herself. "Yes, it has been quite a busy past few days I must say," she agreed.

As he looked in her eyes, he realized that, at least up here, the battlefield light created a light almost as bright as day. She looked beautiful. " _No wonder he loves her_ ," he thought. Gulliver cleared his throat, working to dislodge some of his discomfort with disclosing information Murdoch might want kept quiet, and said, "Miss Webster set a trap for him once she read that you were missing. She um, placed a fake body in a lake and called it in to the station. Of course, by the description given, everybody thought it was you …"

" _Oh my God_ ," Julia thought, " _William thought I was dead!_ " Her heart raced with fear for him. "Did he think ..."

Gulliver's eyes widened, taking in her reaction, as he said, "He was panicked. He ran to the body – It was in the water at the end of a small dock. And he jumped in to uh, to … well, on some level I think he thought he might save you, but on another level, I'm pretty sure he thought you were dead …" He stopped midsentence – a carriage was down on the road ahead, galloping away from the convoy at top speed. Gulliver declared, "Do you think that's McKinnon getting away?!"

Back at the site where the convoy was disabled, two of the hounds were presented with the discarded women's prisoner uniforms the Inspector had found. The dogs quickly found the scent on the opposite side of the explosion in the road, but then the trail died out. Just then, drawing everyone's eyes up to the skies above – over the road farther away – towards Kingston, the skies exploded into brightness with a second battlefield light flare.

"Julia's spotted McKinnon!" William screamed out. "She must have escaped in the front carriage… She's getting away!" he exclaimed. He rushed to one of the horses that was hitched up to a Constabulary carriage and began to unbuckle the harness. "Can anyone else ride without a saddle?" he yelled out as he prepared his mount. Unable to get a carriage to the other side of the road because of the damage done by the explosion, it would be necessary to go on horseback. Two other constables would join him, but they would have to catch up, Murdoch had already mounted up and galloped down the road towards Kingston, towards the light, towards McKinnon, and towards his wife.

Wanting to stop McKinnon from escaping, Detective Gulliver figured they could throw some grenades down towards the carriage as they passed overhead. Julia knew, from throwing the grenade in the typewriter factory, how to use it. She explained that it would likely explode before it reached the ground. They decided to try anyway. The first grenade blew up about twenty feet above and behind the carriage. The explosion spooked the horses and they bolted forward. However the next grenade blasted in front of the horses, and only about ten feet above the ground. The horses nearly halted, reared, and then turned off the road to avoid the explosion. The carriage wheels caught in a ditch to the side of the road, and the carriage flipped. The harness broke, and even though the horses fell down, they quickly got up and bolted off.

As William galloped his horse down the road, he saw and heard some explosions up ahead. He had to hurry. He clicked to his horse and leaned forward as he urged him on. As he first caught site of a disabled carriage ahead, adrenalin pumped through his body. It had overturned and the horses had run off. Although he had heard explosions, there was no evidence that one had occurred here. " _Perhaps Julia dropped some grenades that exploded in the air and spooked the horses,_ " he thought. He dismounted, and just as he was about to check to see if there was anyone inside the carriage, he heard gunfire – and it was coming from above, from up in the sky. In the illumination of the battlefield light he could just make out a hot-air balloon and … " _What is that?_ " he thought. " _Oh my God – It's the dirigible! And it is in pursuit of the balloon. It's firing on the balloon… Julia!_ " he panicked. He mounted back up and took off in the direction of the balloon. The balloon was hit! And it was losing altitude – quickly!

Up in the hot-air balloon, Dr. Ogden and Detective Gulliver had two problems. The first one was that, much to their surprise, someone, probably Brogan, had attacked them with a dirigible. There were some bullet holes in the balloon. Julia was coping with that problem by increasing the heat released from the blower under the balloon and decreasing the amount of venting with the flappers. Although the balloon was still descending too quickly, she had managed to slow its descent significantly. They were going down, but the landing would likely be pretty soft, or at least survivable. However, the second problem was more worrisome. The dirigible was still in pursuit and appeared to be gaining on them. If one of Brogan's bullets hit a propane tank, it would explode and they would surely die. Gulliver had placed his body between Julia and the approaching dirigible, stating that Murdoch would kill him if he let anything happen to her. Selecting a rifle, he had taken focused aim on the section at the bottom of the dirigible where he believed the men were located. The bullets had seemed to come from that area during the attack. He fired! Unsure if his attempt had hit anyone or not, he decided to continue to fire. The dirigible never returned any fire, but it continued to get closer and closer. A mid-air collision seemed imminent, and their balloon would likely be badly damaged by the impact.

William's horse was tiring, but he had caught up to the balloon. It was quite low now. Continuing along under it, his horse was finally permitted to slow to a trot. William watched from the ground as the bottom of the dirigible crashed into the balloon, puncturing the side. The balloon began to drop rapidly. He hoped they would be alright – they were already pretty close to the ground he had thought. He sent the horse forward in pursuit, a heavily wooded area up ahead. The dirigible continued on its way, soon to disappear out of sight.

Gulliver and Ogden watched below, preparing for the crash landing. They were going to hit trees. First they heard the slapping and cracking sound of the leaves and small ends of the branches as they caught against the basket. The basket suddenly tipped. Detective Gulliver had plastered Julia tightly to the side of the basket with his body and the held on tight to the ropes on the sides, being cut and slashed by the pieces of the trees as they brushed by. Then just as suddenly, the basket righted itself. Abruptly, the basket halted. The balloon had caught firmly in the trees. They were merely a few feet from the ground. Their hearts pounding, out of breath from fear, they realized they would live. Gulliver jumped out and then reached back to give the good doctor a hand. The battlefield light still illuminating the area, they found themselves in a small clearing in the midst of the woods. They saw her clear as day running through the trees– a woman dressed as a guard, an escaped convict. Gulliver pulled his side arm and aimed the gun at the running woman. He cocked the gun, yelling for her to stop or he'd shoot. She stopped and turned, putting her hands up. The escaped prisoner, Sally Smoot, stood before them. She was quite a bit older than Detective Gulliver had expected.

"Countess Fausta!" Julia cried out.

Her chest heaved with exhaustion. Her eyes focused. Surprise covered her face. Out of breath, she struggled to speak, "Oh my God, Dr. Ogden… Dear, please tell him not to shoot," she said. Gulliver looked at Dr. Ogden, his eyes asking for explanations. The countess lowered her hands to put them out in front of herself – in a praying position. She begged, "Please let me go. You know how awful it is in there and I didn't really do anything wrong … Certainly nothing to deserve to spend the rest of my days in such a horrid place as a prison cell."

Julia's mind was going a mile a minute, and her heart was beating even faster than that. She felt such compassion for the countess, having just faced the same possibility, or even worse, for a similar "crime." That's when it occurred to her – crossed her mind as the best explanation for it all… "Countess," Julia asked, "Was it you who had my files stolen from Dr. Tash? Was it you who tried to have me killed by informing the press of my abortion?"

The countess put her hands back up in the air, anticipating anger. "Now sweetie, I never wanted to hurt you – noth 'in personal. In the end it came down to you or me… I just couldn't take it anymore, and tell 'in what I knew about your abortion was the only way I could see to get out," she explained.

Julia shook her head, fighting the bitter taste of betrayal. "You did it because you resent me – for having wealth, for having a silver spoon up my arse. That's why!" Julia shouted.

Having reached a point in the woods that was too dense for the horse, William dismounted, tied up the horse and ran on foot towards the last place he had seen the balloon. Only a few minutes in he heard someone yelling. " _That's Julia's voice,"_ he thought. Hope surged through him and he bolted towards the sound.

The countess dropped her hands again, feeling more confident, and answered, "You have to believe me – I told about your abortion because it was the only way I could be included in the escape – she wanted to get to you … and I had a way she could. It worked out alright in the end, didn't it? All's well that ends well, hmm?"

All eyes turned as a twig cracked in the brush. William emerged out of the shadows, the battlefield light still sufficiently illuminating the dark night, his eyes met and held those of his wife. His chest rose and fell dramatically; he was winded from the chase. Relief flooded his face, except for a few cuts, Julia looked to be alright. "Julia," he called out.

She rushed to him, wanting to be in his arms. "William!" she cried.

The countess quickly snatched her from behind before she could get to William, and put a knife to her neck. She stepped backward towards the black-enveloped brush, dragging Julia with her. Although Gulliver had the gun, Sally Smoot knew it was really Murdoch who was in charge, and her eyes focused on him as she said, "Let us go or she dies." Murdoch caught Gulliver's eye and nodded. He lowered his weapon and the two women disappeared into the dark.

Once they were out of sight, the countess lowered the knife and whispered, "Please let me go… PLEASE."

Julia heard a twig crack under her feet; she knew William would hear it too – he would know which direction to go to find them. Indecision and conflict filled her. "Run!" she declared with a whisper. Without turning to see, Julia rushed forward, back towards William, knowing that when she found him and dove into his arms, the action would be helping the countess, a convicted prisoner, to escape.

Only mere steps later, she found him with Detective Gulliver. Every cell in her body reacted to the sight of him. They had survived so much – she ran to him, throwing her arms up around his neck, hearing the soft thud as their chests collided. "William," she whispered in his ear.

"I've got you," he whispered back. She squeezed him harder. "When I saw the balloon get hit … I …" She stopped him with a kiss. When they broke off the kiss, Gulliver was gone. William softly explained, "He's gone after her." He brought her back to his horse and they rode back towards the others.

Once they got back to the overturned carriage, the Inspector and many other men were already there. McKinnon had been knocked unconscious in the accident. Brackenreid asked Dr. Ogden to take a look at her. She had regained consciousness. William stood behind Julia as she examined McKinnon.

Cecily McKinnon noticed Murdoch. She looked him up and down, remembering how attractive she found the man to be. The irony that this would be the second time the handsome detective was directly involved in her arrest was not lost on her. "So detective," she slyly said, "We meet again."

"Mrs. McKinnon," William replied.

"I see your fiancée finally got around to marrying you after all… Pity really," she continued.

Dr. Ogden stood up and said, "She has a broken arm. Otherwise I believe she is fine." The couple stepped out, leaving McKinnon with an armed constable. Eventually, the Constabulary and the prison guards had recovered fourteen of the twenty-one escaped women. Countess Fausta managed to escape, as did one of the other women who had shared meals with Julia in the prison. They also captured a few more of Brogan's men, including the other Obannon brother. Brogan had escaped in the dirigible.

Finding the dirigible, and thus finding Brogan, became the Inspector's major initiative. "How many places could he hide such a thing as a dirigible?" he had asked Murdoch. Murdoch explained that they had already looked in all the places he could think of – that even with advice from James Pendrick, they had not been able to find where he was hiding it. All they knew was that it was south of downtown Toronto. Murdoch had an idea though – perhaps they were storing it on boat – a really big boat. Lake Ontario is south of Toronto; that could be where it had been headed. Brackenreid planned on calling the navy tomorrow to determine if such a thing were possible. For now, they decided to call it night and all head home. It had been an amazingly long and stressful day. They would leave the rest of the work of re-capturing the women to the warden.

However, as soon as she stepped up into the carriage to head back down the road towards home, Julia remembered something. "Oh, William," she started, "We have to tell Reggie about the balloon. He probably needed it for the show tomorrow."

"Yes, of course," William answered. He stepped back out of the carriage and asked some constables to go cut the basket out of the trees and try to recover as much of the balloon as possible. The basket was relatively light; they could probably use a team of horses to get it to the road and then put it in the paddy wagon. He asked them to drop it off at the Balloon Show site. He would call Mr. Poundset once they got back to the station and explain what had happened. If need be, Julia and William would reimburse him for the cost of the balloon – it was William's idea after all, and Julia was the one who actually took it.

Dr. Ogden and Constable Crabtree headed over to the morgue so she could treat his bullet wound. He had been hit in the upper arm. Fortunately, it was diagnosed to heal up well. Once they were finished, they headed back over to the station. On the short walk over, George shared with her how awed he was at seeing the lengths to which she had gone to save her husband's wife. And not only that, he had explained, she had saved all of them by sneaking around behind Brogan and throwing the grenade, and just now she had flown a balloon, of all things, to make it possible to re-capture most of the prisoners – particularly the mastermind behind all of the attacks on the Constabulary! Hearing him list all of these feats, and realizing they had all happened just today, and many more thrilling events as well, took her breath away. They entered the stationhouse feeling both amazed and exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go home and have a shower and a drink, and fall asleep in William's arms.

Before William and Julia headed home they called Claire-Marie and the children. They told them they would be coming to get the children tomorrow, but to stay put until they got there. They spoke with the children. Everyone was excited for tomorrow to come.

On the way to their house, the couple sat together in the carriage, Julia tucked under William's arm. He told her that he had promised Reggie Poundset that they would come by the balloon show tomorrow morning. They were to speak on stage about Julia's adventures in the balloon. They agreed that it was the least they could do given the circumstances. Julia suggested that they pay for the balloon anyway, and William agreed.

She rested her head down on his chest and took a deep breath. "It's so hard to believe that it was this morning that you got knocked unconscious twice, and then nearly drowned William!" she said, letting her hand softly rub along his chest. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He leaned away from her and tenderly took her chin in his hand, bringing their eyes to meet. "I am thoroughly exhausted … And very relieved. I only wish Brogan wasn't still out there," he answered.

Julia remembered that yesterday he had thought she was dead and had nearly been killed by a bullet to the head, and he had had to arrest her for having had an abortion, and then they had argued … It really was overwhelming to think of how much had happened to them in such a short time. Of course they were exhausted. She sighed, not wanting to acknowledge what he had said about Brogan – she was just too tired to worry anymore. "Don't you think that, now that his sister has been recaptured and transferred to the Kingston Penitentiary, and most of his men have either been arrested or have abandoned him, and he no longer has a place to oversee his business, and he's on the run, don't you think we are safe from him now William?" she asked. Holding her eyes, he nodded. " _My God, he's beautiful_ ," Julia thought, being drawn in by his warm, chocolate brown eyes. A smile grew on her face, preparing him to be teased. She tucked herself back in his arms, nestling in against his chest, and said, "Hopefully, our biggest adventure tomorrow will be buying you a new hat."

"Oh," he replied with a cringe of pain, "I loved that hat. She gave him a squeeze as she giggled. He was succumbed to join her – just a little.

Once they got home, they did exactly as Julia had imagined – showered – together, making love against the shower wall. Then she had had a glass of whiskey, and to her astonishment, William had had one too. And, finally, they fell asleep slept together, naked, in their own deliciously comfortable bed. Tomorrow they would be with their children. Tomorrow, life would get back to normal. Sleep came quickly – and they were each there to comfort the other as … (And it was inevitable that this would happen) … as the nightmares came.

 _ **William and Julia had done more than weather the storm – they had chased after it, and they had caught it! And they had devised ways to survive it, and even to use its powers to their own advantage. Just remember, a year ago, when they had been caught in a thunderstorm up at the lake-house, and they had run through the woods, heading for the clearing to be safe from the lightning … remember that Julia had wanted to slow, for they were almost there, but William surged forward, pulling her along even harder, for he knew that you are the most vulnerable when you think you have made it to safety, but you haven't actually done so yet. Thunder still rumbled. Perhaps they were too tired to hear it.**_


	16. Chapter 15

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 15: Saturday, August 16, 1913

The clouded sky dampened the morning illumination of the bedroom, as a warm, steady rain drummed on the roof. Dreaming of being in the backroom of his office with Julia, William stirred in his sleep as his muscles twitched, being lightly stimulated by his brainstem, as he dreamt of backing Julia into the wall, pulling down her bloomers and firmly penetrating her. In the dream, he moaned in response to the immense pleasure of having her yield, taking him in and surrounding him in a warm, tight, sexual hug. His throat grumbled – the sound _**outside**_ of his brain, in the reality of the bedroom, awakening him. He took a deep breath, feeling the sultry air fill his lungs. Aroused and joyful, he smiled and turned to make sure she was there. Still sleeping deeply, Julia snored ever so slightly. Therein arose his dilemma – she very much needed to sleep, yet, he so wanted to wake her, to take his time loving every inch of her. He wanted to hear her breath in his ear, taste her skin, feel her move under him; he wanted to be driven to the brink of his control by her pleas and her moans for him. Such imaginings surged the power of the urgency he felt in his groin. He weakened.

Lifting the covers off of her silky, naked body, he slid down across her and tenderly took her in his arms, then pulling the sheets back up to envelope them together. His lips found her ear, "Julia," he whispered.

Taking a deep, slow breath, she moaned, "Mmm," and said, "William, you're here," as she rolled on her side to face him and rode her thigh up over his waist.

Her body felt exquisite as it glided along his. "Right here," he whispered in her ear. He pulled her closer and kissed her cheek, her neck – finally, his lips touched hers, so gently, before he pressed down against her. She responded, opening her mouth to him, inviting him in. He found her silky tongue, soft and warm. Giving in to his urge to be deeper, he pushed in, building the strength in rhythmical strokes. A heavenly dizziness spiraled in his brain. He wanted only one thing – to be as close to her as possible, and then, even closer than that. He rolled her onto her back and deepened the kiss.

" _Oh my God_ ," the words swirled deeply into her brain. She felt his sturdy, zealous lust for her against the inside of her thigh – already so close. Her breath flared out through her nostrils as her desire grew. Her womb tightened and twisted delightfully. William's hand explored, marveling and worshipping her. Each finger rippled up, over the waves of her ribs, to encompass her breast, molding and massaging the supple flesh. " _William. Oh my God William_ ," her mind chanted. He broke off the kiss, freeing her to sing his name into the dimly lit secrecy of their room, "William," she said. He kissed and nibbled his way down to her nipple. Squeezing her breast into a peak with both hands, he took her into his mouth, letting his tongue tease and torture the swollen nipple, being rewarded by her moans of pleasure.

Causing her insides to nearly plummet over the edge of her ability to tolerate the tension, he released her breast, and kissed down her center, shifting his body down as he went, and settling between her thighs. Anticipation and excitement surged through her with his playful nips on her inner thigh, bringing her fingers to clench the bed-sheets, and her back to rush into an arch. Breathing becoming rapid, desperately, her mind raced as it descended, " _What are you doing to me?"_ she thought. Feeling so very lightheaded, she begged him to save her from her torment, as her womb coiled so tightly that she was certain it would rupture. "William," she cried, the air rushing out of her nostrils, "Please William," she called again, writhing and wriggling her body as her fingers wound the bed-sheets into spiraled wrinkles, striving to withstand the agonous yearning for his touch.

He smiled, knowing he would give her, now, what she begged for. Bringing an arm under each of her thighs and wrapping them around her, his rough, course fingers masterfully slid between her folds to melt into her luscious, wet need for him. She moaned with relief and intensifying desire. His humid breath, then – " _Oh my God_ ," – the slippery silk of his tongue. Her womb flipped and burned, becoming impossibly more taught with lust. Another moan steamed into the room, low and long. Firmly, strongly, he increased the pressure and created a rhythm. Her hips pumped against him, and he followed her lead. "William … Oh, please – don't stop…Oh William, what you do to me," she cried, tears welling up and then trickling down her face as she strained. She was so close to touching the sacred spot. From her peripheries she sensed it first. The eruption had already begun, its rumble building, soon to arrive and to flood her with the heat of euphoria. As the pleasurable waves flowed into her, she reached further and further with each stroke, seeking every last drop of the sweet feeling. "Mmm," she soaked in the contentment, as her hips slowed. When her motion stopped, her muscles succumbed to exhaustion and she lie limp. William kissed his way up, past her belly button, along her ribs, between her breasts, into the crook of her neck, where he nestled in the familiar scent of her hair. Her pounding heart and hurried breathing beat against his chest as he let his weight hold her while she recovered.

His need for her still apparent, swollen and solid, pressed into her thigh, she shifted, tucking herself under his hips. She whispered in his ear, "Make love to me William." Bending her knees, tempting his entry, her summoning, rapid breath burrowed into his ear, swirled his brain, "Please William – deep, deep inside of me. Please," her voice lured. He lifted himself to lower his pelvis, to line up between her folds. Her womb coiled with frenzied expectation.

As his hard, warm tip touched her smooth, juicy resistance, her moan in his ear surged him forward. Rocking her to the core, William moaned as he pressed inward, reveling in her squeezing, tight, slippery, surrender. Filling her completely, his voice knocked into her brain, "Julia. Oh my God, you feel good."

He thrust into her, hard, taking her breath away as he pulled back preparing to thrust into her again. Deeper he pushed in. Deeper again. She was unsure she could take it, her womb once again cramped into delightful need. "Deeper William," she begged, hurling him over the edge of his control. He surged into her with all his might, into her, into her, into her. His hunger driving him wild, for what he wanted so much, was right there, just within reach.

She needed to charge, to catch up to him. Every cell focused on the deepest point inside of her where they touched… Oh – and then it gave way, erupting outward. Ecstasy swept them along together. They spun, and swam, and floated, and fell in warm, exquisite love. Absolutely succulent, scrumptious, delectable, love.

Julia's head resting on his chest, they recovered together, basking in the warm radiance that still flowed within them, between them and around them. The pattering sound of the rain on the roof and through the open window lulled them into a cozy comfort; they were together, safe, leisurely, and madly in love with each other. It was a Saturday.

William reminded Julia that they were expected at the Balloon Show, figuring they would go despite the rain. He caressed one of the scrapes on her face, remembering seeing her balloon disappear in the trees the night before. "I worried I might have lost you," William said with a sigh. "You are an amazing woman, Julia," he added. She burrowed down a little deeper into him and enfolded him with a squeeze. His fingers slid down her arm, to tend to a large scratch on her forearm.

She took his hand in hers and brought his knuckles up to her lips for a kiss. "How did you hurt your hand?" she asked, placing his hand on his chest and tenderly sliding her fingers over the bruised knuckles.

Embarrassment seeped up, filling his gut with uneasiness. He wrinkled his mouth as he remembered punching the wall – remembered being so filled with helpless rage that he lost control, that he did something so stupid as to hurt himself and damage his own wall.

Julia shifted, uncomfortable with his hesitation in answering, "Was it when Isabel Webster shot at you – put the bullet holes in your hat?" she asked.

Realizing he never did tell her what had happened to his hat after she had asked, he quickly figured out that Gulliver probably had – he was the only one that was there. William sighed and then said, "So you know about that do you?"

He felt her nod her head against his chest. "It explains the nightmare you had the night we slept in the reclining chair … the night I escaped from the trunk … and from being put in jail for my abortion," she said.

William turned onto his side and slid down to align their eyes. He lovingly captured some of her curls and tucked them behind her ear. His hand slipped over her ear, his thumb softly tracing along her jaw, he said, "She had put a fake body in the water. I thought it was you… I really did." He took a deep breath. She could hear he was quivering. Shaking his head 'no' – trying to push the awful feelings away as he spoke, he continued, "I was so panicked, so desperate, completely devastated… I …"

Julia's fingers cupped his face and her eyes locked with his, "Do you remember when you lost your memory and ended up in Bristol England?" she started. He nodded, holding his beautiful brown eyes to hers as he did so. She sighed, the memory re-firing the pain within her, "Well, George came to the morgue. He said they'd found a body – near your church, William, a man that met your description…" she said, with her voice taking on a squeaking tone of distress, and tears welling up in her eyes. She took a deep breath as the tears began to trickle down her face and continued, "When I knelt down to that body, so certain that when we turned it over I would see your face … I don't know how I actually stayed conscious with such debilitating fear… And, Thank God, when I saw it wasn't you, I nearly fell over with relief." He wiped away a tear, leaned in and kissed away another. She knew that he knew … he knew that she knew – the agony and anguish of believing the one had lost the other. The momentary quiet was broken when Julia said, "So much like your mother when you were eight… and like so many of your bad dreams, to find me dead in the water." She hugged him close and found his ear and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

He squeezed her tighter, exhaled his suffering into her ear, and said, "I love you."

"And I you," she replied. They lay together for a time.

Julia was the first to get out of bed. She spoke with him from the bathroom while he waited in bed for his turn. He told her that he had punched the wall in anger at his inability to stop Brogan from hurting them. He said he was ashamed for having done it, that such anger was so useless.

Julia spit out the excess toothpaste and walked out of the bathroom to stand before him, deliciously naked, toothbrush in hand. She said, "William, your anger was far from useless. We were pumped with adrenalin – had been for days. And that hormone puts one into the fight or flight mode, or possibly one can become frozen with fear. And, well … I had been bouncing back and forth between flight and freezing – but you William, you moved very firmly into fight mode. It was your anger that drove you there, that gave you the amazing energy and strength you needed to fight. And that energy inspired me William. I truly believe it was what saved us. It is, it was, far from useless."

William got up out of bed, also deliciously naked, and took her by her waist. (She hoped he wouldn't kiss her, as her mouth was still somewhat full of toothpaste). "I would say, Dr. Julia Ogden, that you did quite a bit of _**fighting**_ yourself, hmm?" he said, clearly flirting with her. He leaned to her ear and explained, "Was it not you who snuck around back behind our mortal enemy and threw a grenade at him? Was it not you who dove off a cliff-sized pier and swam to save my life? And, was it not you I saw up in that balloon, lighting the entire area, enabling the capture of the woman behind it all?"

Pride swelled in her chest. She whispered back, "It was."

He kissed her neck, spun her around to aim her back at the bathroom, and gave her a playful shove. "You are, however, the slowest person at getting dressed I have ever known," he teased. She had to accept the complaint, knowing that it often drove him crazy waiting for her. She chuckled and then made an effort to hurry along.

Quickly, Julia finished in the bathroom, giving it over to William, and began to dress. Wearing her silky bloomers and petticoat, Julia spoke to him from the bedroom. She was starving – she reminded him that they did not have any dinner last night. Her voice grew louder as she entered the bathroom, "I can make us some breakfast, perhaps some bacon and…" She halted, stunned by the view – William was shaving, which always had the potential to take her breath; it was such a masculine act, requiring him to bend forward over the sink to the mirror to better see his work, highlighting his backside, tending to stir a yearning within her. With their little children around, he habitually performed this act while wearing his pajama bottoms – but now, in their absence, his naked, bare haunches were enticingly exposed, hunky and strong.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her. " _William, concentrate on shaving, you have a razor in your hand,_ " he thought as a smile curled on his lips.

Julia leaned against the doorframe trying to decide what she would like to do with him. She imagined standing behind him, rubbing up against him, and wrapping her arms around him, stroking him. Oh, how she wanted to hear him moan. As soon as William finished, having wiped the excess shaving cream from his face, and splashed on that marvelously enticing secret Chinese aftershave of his, she pushed away from the door, "This seems like a wonderful opportunity," she teased, "To more thoroughly examine some of the essential pieces of … _**equipment**_ involved in our fabulous lovemaking." She stepped behind him and slid her arms around his waist. William swallowed as lustful calls stirred within him. She took him in her hand, watching him in the mirror as she did so. His head fell back into the crook of her neck as the muscles holding his head up became sapped of strength, and his mind swirled into a kaleidoscope of dizziness. Holding him softly in an open fist, she pinched the circle formed by her thumb and index finger tight and then pressed down, forcing the top of him to push through, widening the circle of her fingers. As she did so, she described how good it feels when the top of him, "right here," pushes against her, and how the pressure as he moves into her, "opens her, melts her – as if warm, molten liquid was flowing up, and out, and down and in, all through her." Thrills rippled through her when William moaned, or more, whimpered, with her touch. Sliding her fist down around him, and then adding her other fist as well, she described how wonderful it feels when he drives inside of her deeper, how she, "grows dizzy with the delicious torture of the pleasure of feeling you touch me inside, in that one special place, in that one special way, that no one else ever has, or ever will. Your name swirls in my head, William. You move into me so close, and when I think I can bear the delightful torment not one more second, you pull back. And… I think it's this circular layer of skin here near the tip which does it…it makes a vacuum …" she said, as the circle made by her thumb and index finger now slid upwards towards his tip, catching the ring of skin around the tip ever so provocatively, and then her hand continued to slip over him, with each of her curved fingers, one after the other, snagging and then moving over the sensitive skin. It floored him – his knees buckled a bit, his head spun, and he let go a devastating moan, prompting Julia to moan with pleasure as well. "I feel a cyclonic force pull me – drag me outwards, downwards, to you. Stronger than gravity William, the pull. And I yield to it, I am taken back to you. And then you push forward again. Oh my God William, I want you closer," she said. She stopped, lifted her eyes to his in the mirror. His intensity sent a chill through her – almost ragingly his jaw locked as he fought his urge, his look of bloodlust weakened her knees. Her jaw dropped, and the weakest sound, deeper than a squeak, not quite a moan escaped from her throat. " _Oh my God, he's going to …"_ she thought, feeling dizzy.

He roughly stepped behind her, switching their positions, and took a firm hold of her from behind. He pushed her forward into the bathroom counter. Their eyes magnetically connected in the mirror. His hands cupped her breasts as his hot breath rolled over her ear, the wind of it scalding her brain. She couldn't think. Her insides cramped into luscious knots of desire. She gasped with anticipation when his hands slid down, grabbed hold of the top of her bloomers and lowered them, opening her skin to the cool air. She moaned and dropped with the demanding touch of his knee between her thighs, spreading them. He bent over her, covered her, cloaked her – the cold countertop flat and hard against her breasts. "William please," she cried. Her unbearable need for him brought tears to her eyes. "Please," she begged again. She felt him, perfectly lined up. He touched her where she was wet with lustful yearning for him. Again she moaned. _"He's going to come inside of me,"_ she thought, she prayed. As she felt the power of him breach her, make her yield to him and he drove into her, he aggressively took her shoulder in his teeth, clenched slowly but firmly down into the flesh, as he surged deeply into her. Her moan was overwhelming, driving William wild. She felt, she heard, his nostrils blast heat across her neck. " _Oh my God the strength of it,_ " she thought as he thrust forcefully into her, again and again. Unsure she could survive it, Julia called out, "Oh my God Please William, don't stop". Every muscle in his body worked to get deeper inside of her; he grunted with the effort. The sheer animalistic need he had for her shoved her to the edge. The height of it stole her breath.

He heard her gasp, felt her pause. " _She's going over. I have to hurry_ ," the words twisted in his mind as it spiraled out of control. With a strength he did not know he had, he plunged forward into her. " _It's right there. Right there,_ " he thought as he stretched out with all his might to touch that one perfect spot. Oh, and the release of it when he made contact. An explosion of ecstasy filled him. " _Oh my God you are delicious, absolutely delicious,"_ spun in his brain as he moaned with the sweet pleasure of their love.

As often happened when William lost control, regret flooded through him as he lay, exhausted, over her. Slowly the realization that they were bent over the countertop in their bathroom sunk into his awareness. He remembered biting her shoulder, hard. His hand found her face, brushed her hair aside and he kissed her face. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear.

She pushed abruptly upwards into him, standing them both upright, and turned to face him. Julia threw her arms around his neck and propelled him backward with her body into the wall, plastering him into it with a thud. "Don't you dare apologize, William!" she insisted.

She sounded angry, he thought.

Grabbing handfuls of his hair in her fists she stated, "How many times am I going to have to tell you, until you believe me … that I absolutely love it when we make love like that!"

William swallowed, his eyes wide with worry, begging her… before she kissed him, passionately, deep and hard, rough and hurried. She felt him respond – kiss back. When she broke off the kiss and looked in his eyes, she sighed satisfactorily, " _Thank God I think he's got it now,"_ she thought. "Now, as I was trying to tell you before all of this … I'm starving and I'm going to go make breakfast.

As she walked away, he thanked his lucky stars that she loved him. He decided to hurry, as he realized that he was starving too.

William looked through the abundant mail that they had received during the time they were staying at the station, while Julia stood cooking at the stove. She talked with him about how very much she wanted to see the children. She wanted to be home, safe and sound with them, here in their home. Oh, how she longed for their return to their routines…

One of the envelopes was from the Club. William experienced a pang of nausea upon seeing it, figuring it was the notification that they had finally been kicked out, and their remaining money returned to them. Memories of their fight to be able to eat lunch in the Club Restaurant, not so very long ago, played in his mind. The memory of the maître d telling him that _**he**_ had never really been wanted there in the first place, particularly hit with a sting. He sighed, remembering Isabel Webster saying that he had _**ruined**_ Julia's life. " _Perhaps he had_ …" he thought. Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts by a very distinct smell – a somewhat unpleasant and urgent one. " _ **Julia's burning the toast again!**_ " he thought.

They ate breakfast quickly, as there were quite a few errands to run. They needed to stop at the bank to get money – it was essential to pay Judith and Claire-Marie for all the extra care they had given their children. And they decided to stop and buy William a new homburg, after Julia convinced him that repairing his old, and most beloved, hat was not going to be acceptable. Her argument, that you would always be able to tell that there were two holes in the hat, was effective, and reluctantly, he had agreed.

Walking out of the house, they noticed the rain had stopped – the smell of the moist air, the soil, and the flowers soothed and excited them, causing them to pause on their front path, and appreciate the lovely day, and the fact that they were alive, and well, and together. "What good luck for Reggie and his Balloon Show," Julia declared. She seemed to be looking for something in the distance, squinting and using her hand as a visor with which to block the Sun from stinging her eyes.

William leaned closer to her and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"This is the perfect weather to see a rainbow," she replied.

William glanced away briefly, and smiled, before he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist to share her view. It was one of those moments where time seemed to stand still, where the sound of one's voice echoes with a special whisper, announcing the awe of the world. His voice close to her ear, the intimacy complete, the gorgeous tone of it melting her and exhilarating her inside, he asked, "Why do you think they call it a _**RAIN**_ bow?" He followed the question with mischievous, distracting nibbles on her ear.

" _Oh my God I love this man so,"_ she thought. "Well, Professor Murdoch," she teased, "I believe it is because you can only see them when there is _**rain**_ and sun."

"Mm," he answered, his mouth still occupied with her ear. He lifted his lips away from her, allowing him to speak. "You are right about that my dear, but," he paused, "you don't look for a rainbow in the sun; you look for it in the rain." With that he turned them both around, to face in the opposite direction. He treasured the sound as Julia gasped with delight. Before them, magnificently displayed across the sky, there was a bright, colorful, beautiful rainbow, sparkling away in front of the distant, dark clouds.

"Oh William! It's glorious!" she exclaimed.

"That it is," he agreed. His mind ran away with a thought – an analogy really. Knowing the means of making such a beautiful rainbow involved the differing degrees of bending of the different wavelengths of electromagnetic energy from the Sun through the more dense water droplets in the sky, and he thought to compare this to having the immense powerful energy of their love for each other and their children being bent through the higher density of the troubled times they had just experienced … thinking that such a thing happening creates the ability to see what is always there, but is not always visible.

Julia moved to stand next to him, taken by his look, seeing introspection and curiosity on his face. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

Drawn away from his thoughts, his brown eyes met her blue ones, and he smiled. "Something about it … Somehow helps me understand our love, somehow…" he said with a wrinkle of doubt at one corner of his mouth.

"Really?" she said with a giggle. She slid her arm into his and squeezed it tight. "My God I love you William Murdoch," she disclosed with glee.

By the time they arrived at the Annual Poundset Balloon Show, quite a big crowd had formed. The balloon Julia had stolen and crashed was centrally displayed near the stage – its bright, jumbled medley of colors now visible in the light of day. Some members of the press stood close to the stage and spotted them as soon as they stepped out of the carriage. They led the rush to surround the couple. Cameras clicked away as questions were thrown at them from all sides. "Detective Murdoch, how does it feel to have thwarted the planned escape of so many dangerous criminals?" "Dr. Ogden, is it true that it was _**YOU**_ who flew the balloon in to save the day?" "How did you survive the crash?" "Detective Murdoch, would you like to comment on the raid on the illegal weapons factory down at the docks?" William and Julia patiently answered questions and posed for photos.

Afterwards, the couple found Mr. Poundset back behind the stage. Hoping to get the announcements over quickly, worrying that there might be more rain, Mr. Poundset hurried on stage and began. Within minutes he invited the "most famous couple in Toronto" onto the stage to share with the crowd about their latest adventures. The crowd cheered for them. Into the microphone, Julia described in detail what had happened the night before. Reggie made her promise to resume her flying lessons, and to bring their children too. Later, she was asked to sign people's Balloon Show Programs.

They hadn't noticed that Brogan sat in a carriage near the road, watching the show from afar. Two other men joined him as the driver clicked the horse forward after William and Julia's carriage. They didn't notice, but they were being followed.

The closer they got to the children, the more agitated William became. Julia noticed he kept turning and looking out the back window of the carriage. "What is it William?" she asked.

He didn't want to worry her, but the moment he lined his eyes up with hers, he knew it was too late. He sighed and replied, "We may be being followed." His face took on its usual apologetic look as he shared the bad news. "Maybe this was not such a good idea – to go get the children with Brogan still out there," he elaborated.

Julia looked worried now too. "Perhaps," she sadly agreed. William instructed the driver to turn off of their planned route and watched out of the back window. The carriage he expected was following them did not turn in the same place prompting him to sigh with a bit of relief. After about a mile he had the driver double-back and then they continued on their way. William figured it would be best to go to their lake-house rather than Judith's house just in case. They could walk up through the woods to Judith's house from their house. Besides playing it safe, he wanted to check the scrutiny cameras to see if anyone had been in their house, possibly to set up a trap.

William offered Julia a hand as she stepped out of the carriage. The driver turned around and headed back out to the road. Once they were inside the front door, William glanced around, assuring himself they were alone, and then immediately climbed up on a stool to get the first scrutiny camera down. Julia stayed at the front door and looked out the window. A sickening feeling pumped through her – the carriage they had arrived in moved over to the side! It was letting another carriage go by! Someone was coming! "William!" she screamed out, "There is another carriage coming!" Alarm surged through him. He climbed down from the stool as she added, "Oh my God, they have guns William!"

Grabbing her hand, he rushed for the backdoor. He flung the door opened and they quickly stepped out. Only two steps out, they both stopped. Julia looked into his eyes and with fright in her voice whispered, "They will see our footprints in the mud!"

The pause was very brief – but he knew they needed a plan. "We have to make it to the wall," he ordered. He bolted forward, pulling her along as fast as their feet could carry them.

With their chests heaving to try to get the oxygen they needed, William stepped up onto the stonewall, (the one he had repaired without wearing a shirt a year earlier) and tuned back to offer her a hand. He noticed that the first few steps that they would take along the top of the wall would leave a slightly visible mud trail. They had no choice though, they had to go now. After rushing along the top of the stonewall for about a hundred feet, he helped Julia get down. He frantically gathered up fist-sized stones and stuffed them into his pockets. Then he handed Julia some stones as well, telling her to put them in her purse. Then they stealthily doubled-back towards the path. Grateful that Brogan and his men did not seem to be following their trail down the path just yet, William ripped Julia's dress, enabling her to spread her legs sufficiently to climb, and gave her a leg-up into a tree. Julia's tree was about fifteen-feet back from the muddy footpath. He instructed her, "Climb high. Have the stones ready. Only throw them if they are coming for you – if they have found you," he authoritatively yelled with a whisper. Then he climbed up into a tree that was right next to the path.

Both William and Julia stopped their ascents up into their respective trees when they heard the men's voices. _**They were coming!**_

Julia feared she would vomit from the terror as she waited up in her tree and watched. _They were getting closer!_ Then she saw them – she surprised herself when she realized that it was possible to feel even more afraid. One of the four men had a rifle – _Oh my God it was Brogan!_ The others jogged along behind Brogan, switching their sights from the left to the right as they moved down the path. Their guns were drawn. They were ready to shoot. She held her breath, praying they wouldn't hear her – or William, begging that they wouldn't look up.

The moment the last man stepped past his tree, William flung a stone at that last man's head. "Whack!" it hit its target hard. The other three men halted and turned back to see what had happened, as the man fell unconscious to the ground. Having still had not considered that the attack may have come from above, their eyes frantically searched for their quarry at ground-level around the trail. Their weapons jerked from place to place as they swung quickly to take aim at different targets around their periphery.

William summoned his courage, for he knew this next throw would likely reveal his position. He coiled his arm back... (Julia gasped as she watched him from her tree). And he threw the stone with all his might, aiming for Brogan. "Smack!" the sound of the impact hurled through the air. The stone had hit Brogan in the cheek bone, right on his scar, the impact knocking him to the ground. The other two men scanned to treetops looking for who threw the rock. William was well-hidden, propping himself upright, standing behind the tree-trunk. Brogan recovered and stood back up to join them on their hunt.

Julia was glad she had chosen to wear her blue dress that day, hoping it would meld in with the sky as seen through the green leaves. She could see William, standing, holding his breath behind the skinny, brown trunk of his tree. Panic filled her as she noticed he had another stone at the ready. " _He was going to throw one again! … Even knowing they were searching for him in the trees – and that they had guns at the ready!... Oh my God,"_ she gasped.

Suddenly, William moved out from behind the trunk and catapulted another stone at one of the men. His aim was good, landing it with a "thwack," against a third man's head. The man fell to the ground, wobbly but still conscious. Brogan and the other man still standing took aim at William. They fired! Amazingly, their bullets missed, as William jumped off of his branch and plummeted towards the ground through the branches of his tree. After falling about fifteen feet, William stopped his fall as he caught a solid branch with the backs of his knees and then quickly grabbed a hold of it with his fingers. Julia marveled with temporary relief, knowing her husband's experience working in the logging camps had just saved his life – at least for now.

Brogan held a hand up at his mate, stopping him from continuing to fire on William. "Put it down, Sean," Brogan said, aiming his rifle squarely at William, who now sat upright on the branch. Julia noticed William reaching into his pocket for another stone. She decided to arm herself as well.

"Detective Murdoch is mine," Brogan claimed. "Don't move Murdoch!" he demanded. "Oh, I'm going to kill you, but before I do, I wanted to tell you what I'm going to do with your pretty little wife, " _Julia,_ " he explained, twisting the sound of her name into a perverted, girlish tone.

William's head raced into a panic. He fought, not to spin out of control, with every cell in his body. "Leave her alone," William yelled out, "She has nothing to do with this!"

Brogan laughed an evil, abusive cackle. "Oh, but she does," Brogan claimed, "You see, my Jane found you to be quite attractive," he continued, his jaw rigidly locking with his fury over the arousal of his jealousy. "And it's because of you and your, " _Julia,_ " Murdoch, that I don't have my Jane anymore. Now, I figure it's my turn to take your girl… And I wanted you to know, not to worry. I'm not going to kill her. No, I have much better plans for her… Much better," he jeered with another wicked cackle. "I do like a girl with spunk, and your Julia sure has spunk… Now she is a TOFF, a lady with class … She needs to be brought down a peg or to, and it's going to take a real man to do that," Brogan elaborated as he tended to do. He wasn't aware of it, but it was one of his biggest weaknesses. Brogan re-focused his attention behind his rifle, aiming it once again directly at Murdoch.

William felt sickened by his thoughts as he remembered the sight of Jane, battered and naked, teetering on edge of death by Brogan's brutalization. But, then his emotions flipped, and a rage surged through him at the thought of this … bastard doing that to Julia. His hand holding the stone twitched as he tried to decide whether or not to throw it…

At the same time, Julia battled with herself as to whether or not to throw her stones at the men. She did not have a clear shot at Brogan – a tree was blocking her line of sight, her line of fire. She did, however, have a shot at the man on the ground, the man who just now brought himself back on his feet. " _William has another stone ready,"_ she thought. " _If I distract Brogan, he will throw the stone!_ " she decided. She forced herself to scream it out – loudly, "Detective William Murdoch has more manliness in his one little finger than you will ever have in your whole body, Brogan," she hollered from her tree top, learning from William, standing erect behind the trunk.

Julia's plan did not work! Brogan never took his eyes off of Murdoch; William did not have an opportunity to throw the stone at a distracted target. The other two men jerked their guns in the direction of Julia's voice. Brogan spoke loudly to ensure all could hear him as he held Murdoch in his scope, "Sean, don't kill her – I want the pretty lady alive!" he ordered. Sean and the other man moved down the trail looking for Julia up in the trees. Brogan then addressed Julia, never taking his eyes off of Murdoch, "Oh you are very clever doctor. I will have to keep that in mind later… when I have you on my leash. A lesser adversary may have lost sight of your William, surprised by your call… Giving him a momentary advantage in our little showdown – one much like, "David with his stones, versus Goliath with his, well in this case, my gun." Brogan took a deep breath, preparing for battle. Now he addressed Murdoch directly, "So let's do this Murdoch. We can call it an experiment. Which travels faster, a stone or a bullet?"

Brogan tucked the rifle tighter against his shoulder and held his breath...

William drew his arm back, beginning his throw...

Julia stepped out from behind the trunk and threw a stone as hard as she could at the weakest man…

 **Piercing the air, a loud rifle shot boomed through the air.**

Brogan dropped to the ground, blood spurting from his head. Sean turned back to see where the shot came from. William's body cracked branches and swished through leaves as he fell down through the tree. Julia's rock hit the unknown man in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun. William's stone hurled over Brogan's now fallen body, hitting nothing.

"William!" Julia screamed out with panic. She watched his body falling, tears already blurring her view. The unknown man called out that he had sight of Julia. Sean took aim at whoever had fired the shot that had dropped Brogan, aiming his handgun further up the path towards the house.

Julia nearly fell to her knees – nearly fell out of her tree, as her body reacted to the relief of seeing William reach out and grab a branch, stopping his fall. " _He's alive!"_ she thought. A gun fired further up the trail. When she looked back to see where the men had been standing on the trail, she only saw Brogan, on the ground with a massive pool of blood under his head, and the first man William had hit with a stone – his body lay a few feet away.

Both William and Julia rushed to get down out of their respective trees. A few moments later they heard another gunshot, only to be quickly followed by a rifle shot. William waited for her at the bottom of her tree. She jumped down to be caught and steadied in his arms. No time for hugging, they quickly ran up the path towards the house.

Just off of the path, they found him – the man who had come to their rescue, William's father, Harry. He had been shot; blood covered one side of his pelvis. He was lying on the ground, but he still held his rifle, now empty of ammunition. He was conscious.

"Harry!" William yelled, kneeling down next to him. Julia soon ran up behind. "Are you alright?!" William demanded.

"Well, I've been shot boy," Harry answered. "But I think I'll live," he added. Harry's eyes lifted to meet Julia's and he asked, "What do you think doc?"

Julia dropped to her knees next to William. He had been shot in the hip. They were looking at the exit wound; the bullet had gone clean through him. "We need to stop the bleeding," she said, her years of experience having trained her to sound calm. She grabbed a hold of her skirt and ripped at it to make temporary bandages. Bringing Harry into an upright position, she wedged one piece of her skirt into the wound in the back of his hip, and then the other piece of her skirt was placed firmly against the front wound. "Push as hard as you can against them," she told Harry. She noticed William was gone.

Looking back down the path, she saw the two men's bodies still lying inert on the ground, but no sign of William. As she turned to look up the path towards the house, he came into view.

William was sprinting fast. "I called for an ambulance!" he called out. Winded he stood in front of her and asked, "Will he be alright?"

She nodded, and said, "Yes, I believe he will be."

William's face showed his relief. "They got away," he said, still out of breath. His eyes glanced down the path at Brogan and the first man he had hit with a stone. They lay motionless on the ground.

Harry explained that he had shot one of the men who was running away, he was sure of it.

"Do you have any more cartridges?" William asked Harry, dropping his eyes to his rifle.

"Yep," Harry replied. He looked to his shirt pocket. William pulled out two cartridges and reloaded the rifle. He walked down the trail, rifle at the ready, to make sure the two men there were actually dead. They were.

Waiting for the ambulance, Julia told William she was glad Brogan was dead – she really didn't want another possible Gillies situation. William couldn't deny that he agreed with her, but he was relieved that it wasn't he who had killed Brogan. He regretted killing the other man. Throughout his career, he had killed very few people; this would take a toll on his soul.

William and Julia looked at Harry as he mumbled and ranted about how, "No god-danged hoodlum was gonna kill his boy… And not his boy's lovely wife neither. No sir-re, not if Harry Murdoch was around he weren't." Julia thanked Harry. She told him she thought he was very brave. Julia even gave Harry a "thank you" kiss when the ambulance showed up. William thanked him too, stating clearly that Harry had saved the day, saved him, saved Julia, and saved their children. Harry quickly corrected him, "No son, I saved _**my**_ grandchildren… Them there kids – they's my grandchildren too."

"Yes they are," William agreed. Harry was taken to the local hospital. William and Julia gave him some money, planning on helping him get back to Toronto as soon as he was able.

As the ambulance pulled away, Julia sighed and said, "Please now, William." She so wanted to go to their children.

He took her in his arms and teased her, "Are you sure you want them to see you in this … dress?"

Suddenly she became aware that much of her skirt had been torn away, and her legs were scandalously exposed. She thought there might be something she could change into in the lake-house. "As soon as I've changed then," she argued.

He nodded, but then he smiled a mischievous smile and said, "Perhaps we could save this dress though – there is something about how wild and … well…"

Julia stepped back and put her hands on her hips. She coquettishly wiggled her hips at him and playfully said, "So, husband… This is a look that excites you?" He nodded. She laughed and added, "Well, soak in the sight of it detective – it's definitely going in the trash as soon as it's off." She laughed harder when he did something she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him do before – he pouted. "William," she held her sides with the size of her laugh, "Really?!" He smiled and they headed into the house.

Julia switched off the light and closed the girl's bedroom door. She turned to William next to her, sharing, with a glance, her happiness to have her family whole once more. He took her in his arms and they stood together there in the hallway for a time. So many emotions flooded through her; she felt both giddy and like she might break down and cry. His breath in her ear stabilized her. With a soft kiss to her cheek, he turned to take her elbow, and they headed downstairs to clean up. It seemed that, besides the children wanting to play with the new toys their parents had bought them, they even more so wanted to play with each and every old toy they had as well. Still, later they would need to clean up the upstairs as well, for each child had needed a bath, and the whole bunch of them seemed more insatiable then ever when it came to horsing around with their parents, making quite a mess. It was probably for the better that as a result, everyone was exhausted. It might be a hard night to fall asleep, after so much excitement, and not being home together for so long.

Finally preparing for bed themselves, William and Julia headed up to their bedroom. Once inside, Julia put her arms around her husband's neck and said, "I am so very taken with you, William Henry Murdoch." Her ever-so-buttoned-up husband was still wearing his tie – he had wanted to look professional for their appearance at the Balloon Show, and although he had finally removed his jacket and vest, and even rolled up his shirt sleeves, he somehow had managed to keep that tie on. She seductively worked to loosen it. Shaking her head with amazement and disbelief, she explained, "You have such a brilliant mind… How did you ever think up that plan so quickly, with the trees and the rocks and the trick with the footprints… I'm flabbergasted by it William."

Playfully, Julia pushed back against his chest. He gave in to her desire to be in charge, stepping back, submitting to her. "Bump." He could step back no further, his back now pressed up against the wall. He watched her, becoming more and more aroused, as she removed his tie. He gave in to his urge to touch her when she began to unbutton his shirt, and tucked her mouth in to the newly exposed skin on his neck, kissing it and enticingly surprising him with a nip. Her voice was husky and dry as she said, "I want to make you feel good, William." The suspenders slid off of his shoulders. She pulled the tail of his suit free of his trousers and slid it off as well. He felt a jolt to his groin as she stroked and kissed his naked chest.

Although he had given her control, he so wanted to kiss her. Placing his fingers under her jaw, he lifted her face. " _My God she is beautiful,_ " he thought before he kissed her. His brain spun into a dizzying stupor, feeling her fingers take the top button of his trousers.

She broke off the kiss to hover her lips over his ear. "I want to hear you moan… because you feel so good you can't bear the sweet suffering," she whispered. She pinched at the second button, getting what she had asked for as his knees buckled slightly, and he dropped his head back and moaned.

Feeling too quickly out of control, William lifted her hands and brought them back up to wrap them around his waist. He tenderly said, "Unless you want me to fall down on my knees, you'd best slow down a little, Mrs. Murdoch."

He hadn't called her that for a while, an endearment that highlighted their unconventional marriage. She so loved him, knew he loved her – probably even more than she did him. Flashes from the day sprinted through her mind's eye; the look in his eyes when he told her to climb, seeing him prepare to throw a stone while hidden from sight behind the tree trunk. Emotion bowled her over, took her so quickly she had no chance to brace against it. Tears filled her eyes and her throat choked up. He sensed it, and somehow stepped closer to her. "When I heard the shotgun go off, William …" she sucked in some air, the sound shaky as sobbing overcame her. Her eyes touched his briefly, the beauty of him surging the pain and fear deeper into her heart. "I thought it was you!" she said, her voice rising higher into a squeaky desperation. "I thought you were dead! And then I saw you falling through the tree …"

William took her face in his hands, his fingers sliding into the nooks of her hair still in its bun. He chuckled softly and shook his head at his own thoughts. He leaned down closer to her and said, holding her eye firmly, "It's funny what the mind does. It tricks you into seeing what you expect to see. I thought it was Brogan's rifle that had fired too. I had intentionally dropped from the branch, but as I was falling I was thinking, " _Why don't I feel the shot?_ " It's so odd." The corner of his mouth had taken its customary twist for when he questioned his thoughts, when he was asking her what she thought.

He had pulled her out of her distress, challenged her to marvel with him at the human brain. Oh, she loved this man so…

There was a tiny, little knock at the door, prompting William and Julia to look at each other, checking to see if the other had heard it too. Julia's face took on a worried look, call it mother's intuition. Their youngest daughter stood in front of the door as her mother opened it, diving into her arms the moment she saw her. She was holding her little teddy bear, Berry Bear. Julia lifted her up and carried her over to her vanity chair, where the child sat on her mother's lap and cried into her chest. Julia looked up at William, her sadness for their daughter's suffering showing on her face. "What is it sweetie?" she asked softly.

Her voice being muffled in her mother's chest combined with her distress, made it difficult to make out what she was saying. William squatted down next Julia and said, his voice firmer than her mother's, "Chelsea, you have to calm down, honey … and lift your face up so we can hear you."

Julia said, "Take a deep breath."

Chelsea lifted her head and looked into her mother's eyes. She exaggerated taking a deep breath, following her parent's instructions.

"Good," Julia said. Her parents waited.

"I can't sleep," she said, rubbing her eyes. Much to Julia's amazement, somehow William, who was only wearing his trousers at this point, produced a handkerchief and handed it to the child. She used it to wipe her eyes.

"Why can't you sleep?" Julia asked. Both parents noticed that Chelsea pretended to wipe Berry Bear's eyes with the handkerchief too. "Is it Berry Bear? Is Berry Bear upset?" Julia asked. The little one nodded. Julia looked at William, she knew from her psychiatry training that the child would more easily tell her story through the doll than as if it were about herself, she did not know if William knew this. Turning her attention back to her daughter, Julia took a deep breath and said, "Well, I think Berry Bear went through an awful lot being separated from you for so long…" Chelsea nodded, her mother got it. Julia continued, "And he was probably really scared…" Chelsea looked up at her and nodded faster. "But you know what Chelsea, Berry Bear is home safe now. And he has you, and all of the rest of his family, home safe with him, hmm?" Chelsea nodded.

William leaned in and stroked his daughter's curls and added, "And Berry Bear was very brave. He's a real survivor."

Chelsea looked up at him and said, "But he got hurted Daddy," as she showed him a tear in the teddy bear's arm.

"Oh, I see," William replied. "Yes, that probably hurts a lot," he continued. Chelsea nodded again. "Well, your Mommy is an amazing doctor, and I wager she can fix that right up," he suggested looking at Julia.

"I'm sure I could," Julia said, tenderly touching her fingers to the bear's arm.

"Could you Mommy?" Chelsea asked, with a smile on her face. As Julia took the bear and began to further investigate the "injury," Chelsea started crying again.

William rubbed the child's back and explained, "Chelsea, Mommy has to take Berry Bear if she's going to fix him."

"But he's still going to have bad dreams!" she cried.

"Why?" her father asked, looking at her with love and concern in his eyes.

"Because," she started to explain, but started sniveling, making it impossible to speak. Her father wiped her eyes with the handkerchief again and then, looking firmly in her eyes he modeled taking another deep breath. She inhaled, and then with her face wrinkled in worry she explained, "Because he'll still see the body hanging from the tree … with all its insides coming out. And the scary man with the knife."

" _Oh this_ _ **is**_ _bad_ ," both parents thought. William was wondering if she could have seen _**him**_ almost get shot and fall from the tree, but then… there wasn't a knife, and _his_ body was never dead… "Chelsea," he said, sounding amazingly calm, "You have to tell us a little bit more about what Berry Bear sees in the bad dream. Do you know whose body is hanging from the tree? Or who the man is with the knife?"

Somehow the specific questions calmed the little girl down. She looked at her mother and then back to her father. "The body is a deer, and it's hanging from a tree by its horns." Her parents nodded, she was doing well. "And a man I don't know cut open its belly with a really big knife, like Eloise uses sometimes," she continued and then had to take another deep breath. The memory of the sight flooded her emotions again and her face wrinkled as she described it, "This bloody, snaky stuff came out, Daddy… Like the stuff in Mommy's book."

William and Julia shared a look of relief. Both parents knew she was referring to the ANATOMY book Julia had showed them when they were learning about muscles. And, it seemed, that while Chelsea was playing in the woods at Judith's, she must have happened upon a hunter butchering his kill.

Julia took Berry Bear into a tight hug and said, "Oh poor Berry Bear, that does sound like such an awful thing to see," prompting her little daughter to nod her head energetically, knowing someone understood how badly she felt.

Now kneeling next to them, William placed his hand on Chelsea's knee, drawing her eyes to him, and said, "You know what? Your Mommy is not only a doctor that can fix up hurt bodies, she is also a doctor that can fix up hurt thoughts and feelings and dreams too." He looked up at Julia and she nodded at Chelsea.

"Can you fix Berry Bear's being scared too, Mommy?" she asked, filled with hope.

"I think so," Julia replied," but it will take a little while." Julia looked at William. She knew they weren't done; Chelsea needed to contend with what she saw more directly in order to have her fears addressed. She was impressed as she noticed him rock back on to his heels, assuming a more permanent position, showing he understood there was more to do.

Her father's deep breath as he prepared to speak drew Chelsea's attention. "I think I know what Berry Bear saw," William started. Chelsea's eyes grew wide and dark with interest. "You see sweetie, sometimes there are hunters in the woods. They go there with guns to hunt for deer. They kill them for food," William paused, trying to ascertain whether or not Chelsea understood.

"They eat them, Daddy?" she asked.

"Yes, they do," he answered, "But some parts can't be eaten, some of the inside parts. So what I think Berry Bear saw was a hunter taking out the parts he couldn't use as food for his family to eat."

Chelsea looked to her mother, who nodded in agreement, then back at William. "But didn't it hurt?" She asked.

William rolled up onto his knees, raising his height, placing his eyes in line with Chelsea's, as the little child still sat on her mother's lap. He slowly shook his head and said, "Nope. I don't think the deer was feeling any pain when you … Berry Bear saw him. Probably at the very moment when the hunter shot him, the deer felt pain then, but it wouldn't have been for very long, I promise. And then his soul went up to heaven, and that's a beautiful place where he won't feel pain any more, for sure." William's mind drifted for a moment to the man _**he had killed**_ with the stone. He had consoled himself with much the same thoughts earlier.

"You sure Daddy?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, looking a little sleepy.

"I'm sure," he reassuringly replied. Then William took a deep breath and said, "Now, how about you and I go downstairs and make some hot chocolate while mommy takes care of Berry Bear?" Chelsea looked at the toy in her Mommy's arm and then at her Mommy.

"I'll take very good care of him, I promise," Julia said.

Chelsea turned and reached her arms up, requesting her daddy to pick her up, which he did.

Julia told her she would take care of Berry Bear's arm and his bad dreams. She asked Chelsea's Daddy if he could make her a cup of hot chocolate too, with the little extra kick she liked so much. William gave her a teasing, scolding face and she giggled. Julia heard Chelsea say, as William carried her out of the room, "Daddy, I can see your muscles…" prompting her to smile. " _The man does have some nice muscles,_ " she thought, as she pulled out the needle and thread. Julia noticed that the toy smelled badly – like cigarette smoke and along with some other distasteful odors – the stuffed animal needed, " _a round through William's laundry cupboard_ ," she thought.

After fixing up the bear, Julia went down the stairs carrying the little bear with a new white bandage. As she walked into the kitchen, she halted. The picture was so beautiful it made her heart sing and flutter. William stood at the stove, his back to her. He stirred the pot of hot chocolate with one hand, while holding their little five-year old daughter in his other. The child had nestled her face in his neck, and fallen asleep against William's naked skin. It reminded her of one of her favorite memories. Right in the same spot, nearly eight years ago, William had cooked some bacon for their breakfast while he held a barely two-month old William Jr. against his naked chest. He had been singing "Amazing Grace" to the infant, his voice nearly as beautiful as the man himself. She took a deep breath, consciously trying to intensify the lovely feelings and walked to stand next to William.

"She fell asleep," he said.

"More for us then," Julia joked, accepting his smile as the best reward she would get. She told William the toy bear needed a quick wash. She put it in the laundry cupboard and started the machine. She hoped to wash and dry it, and then re-wrap its arm and put the beloved toy back in Chelsea's arms before morning. William handed over the hot chocolate-making to his wife, and then carried their daughter up to her bed.

At the end of another long day, the couple sat at the kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate and talking while they waited for the toy bear to be cleaned and dried. William decided to bring the mail to the table, figuring they should discuss the likely bad news from the Club. There was also a letter from Mrs. Helen O'Keefe. His fears were proven right; the Club had discontinued their membership. No reason was given, and their membership-dues money was returned (a check for over one-thousand dollars). William could tell Julia was disappointed. Their children would certainly be unhappy about it too; they had come to quite enjoy participating in the myriad of activities the Club offered.

Opening the letter from Helen O'Keefe, Julia said, "I never showed up for my meeting with her on Thursday…"

"You were rather busy that day, if I recall," William bowed and said. Elation stirred in him upon his remembering seeing her standing in the bullpen, alive, and barefoot, and dirty, from her efforts to free herself from the trunk and get back to him. And then there were the newspaper stories – And his arresting her… And their argument … And her showing up afterwards, in that sexy, white dress he so loved. His eyes met hers, sparks flying as they did so.

She responded shyly, ducking her chin, dropping her eyes from his, finding the letter in her hand to take her attention. "Yes," she simply agreed. She took a deep breath as she pulled the letter from the envelope, and said, "Perhaps she also wants to break any ties with someone who has been exposed as having had an abortion," she reasoned. She remembered how strongly the woman identified with William over being Catholic. As her eyes darted back and forth to read the words, her face changed to one of happiness. Julia looked up at him, her magnetic blue eyes threatening to take his breath, and explained, "She's invited us and the children to dinner." Thinking she better check the postmark, that maybe the woman had sent the letter before she had read the newspapers about her abortion, Julia picked up the envelope once more. She wrinkled up a corner of her mouth upon seeing the date it was sent, "She sent it on Thursday," she said.

"What time were you supposed to meet her on Thursday?" William asked, intrigued with a mystery to solve.

"Not until three," Julia answered.

"Well then," William thought out loud, "She would surely have seen the newspapers before she sent the invitation… She would have known you were kidnapped – And she'd have known of the evidence showing you had had an abortion as well…"

"But, she would not have read the Friday papers yet," Julia continued with a mixture of doubt and hope, "She would not have been given any reason to think that I might have had an explanation for the unfortunate turn of events."

William nodded, "That's true. Perhaps she did not judge you badly for having had an abortion – even without such an explanation." Floating in the air around them was the discomfort of knowing that Julia had lied about that explanation – That she had been forced to so by him. William wrinkled up his face, offering an apology.

Julia rested her chin in her hand and sighed. She caught his eye, "It was for the best," she said. She looked back at the letter. "There is a phone number. I'll call her and say we would like to come, if the offer still stands. It's for Friday night," she said.

"Good," William replied. He pushed his finished cup of hot chocolate away and leaned back in his chair. His mind wandered back to the Club and the distasteful memory of the maître d saying that he had never been welcomed there.

The way he stirred in his seat told Julia of his uneasiness. She took in the look of him to check her suspicions. Their eyes met, his so gorgeous, with their chocolate brown color that had the power to melt her on the spot. He wrinkled a corner of his mouth. " _Definitely something's bothering him,"_ she thought. Still thinking his reaction was to the dinner date with the O'Keefe's, she said, "I'm sure Katie will be very excited about seeing her sons again."

"Hmm?" William asked, remembering about meeting the O'Keefe's Friday night, and also about how much Katie had seemed to have a crush on the younger O'Keefe boy before he had even finished uttering his question. "Oh, yes," he corrected. With a smile he agreed, "Of course, you're right, she will be quite excited I'm sure." Then he did it, he held her eye. He took a deep breath…

" _He's decided to bring it up, whatever it is_ ," Julia thought.

"Um," he started, then looking away, "Isabel Webster said something … something that's been bothering me."

Julia put her hand over his, "William," she insisted, "Isabel Webster is a murderer. She certainly has no moral character to support anything she has said."

He felt her looking at him. He gave her a quick sideways glance. She wondered, for a second, if he had any idea that every time he does that her insides flip over with some combination of love and lust. She couldn't help but smile. "Well, what is it she said, then?" she decided to ask.

He tapped the fingers of his other hand on the table, "Well, she said one reason she wanted to kill me was because I had gotten my teeth into the idea that Felicity Dawes was the murderer, even though it was obvious to anyone that the woman was not in her right mind…"

"I must say, I remember feeling much the same way at the time," Julia replied. "But…"

His eyes rose, met hers. The look was solid, firm, imploring. " _This is it_ ," she thought.

"She said she wanted to kill me because, much like Carl Rodriguez had done with her mistress, I had … ruined your life," William explained.

Julia shook her head 'no' and giggled at the absurdity, "William," she seemed to be lecturing, "That's ridiculous."

He hurried to explain why it bothered him, saying, "It was because of …" he took a deep breath as he realized it wasn't going to be that easy to explain. "You see, both Rodriguez and I, well we were from poor backgrounds. And both you and Miss Dawes were TOFFs…" He looked away for a moment, trying to find his next words. When their eyes met again she saw his sincere concern. "We each promised some kind of _**magical**_ love and … then we stained your reputations and brought you down," he said. Then he lifted up the letter from the Club and said, "I thought, well … Maybe I did ruin things for you."

If not for the fact that he truly seemed plagued by such thoughts, she would have teased him mercilessly. She held her eyes to his as she stood from her chair. She stood near him, signaling for him to pull back his chair, to make room for her to sit on his lap. "I have only two things to say about that," she said, as she reached down and took her skirt in her fingers. She inched the skirt up, slowly revealing her long, lean legs as she did so.

William swallowed; his head was beginning to spin with lust. He fought to focus, to pay attention to the words she said.

With the skirt up near the very top of her thighs, she lifted a leg over him and sat down facing him on his lap. Her hands danced up his chest and then rested around his neck. "First, I am certain that we were told that we had been kicked out of the Club because _**I**_ had been convicted of providing women with means of contraception. And I'm pretty sure that _**my**_ being arrested for having had an abortion only made the board more sure of their original decision," she said. She brought her mouth down to float over his ear, making sure to rattle him as much as possible with a warm, enticing exhale of breath before she added, "It had nothing at all to do with you William."

She sat back and reached up to the top button on her shirt and began to unbutton it. Instantly she felt the rise in him underneath her. "Now, for the second thing…" she said, reaching for yet another button. "If, what you have done to me is ruin my life, then I beg of you, William, please _**ruin it**_ more," her hungry voice said. Undoing the next button to expose the rounded tops of her breasts, capturing his widening eyes, she then wrapped her legs around the back of the chair and pulled herself tightly against him. She placed a finger under his chin and lifted his face, pulling his eyes off of her cleavage. "Please, please, please, William… _**Ruin me**_ … _**Ruin me**_ as deeply and thoroughly as you possibly can with your magical, awesome, amazing love," she whispered before she passionately devoured his mouth in a kiss.

Her body writhed, and pressed, and slid across his. She felt herself become wet with want for him, powered forward by the feeling of him growing more and more rock hard underneath her. She moaned delightfully when his hands roughly grabbed a hold of her hips and he pulled her aggressively down into him. She released his lips and pressed her hands against the back of his head, plastering his face in her bosom. She reached down to find another shirt button and undo it for him … Then another. She felt she might faint with dizziness when his mouth found one of her nipples, swollen and popped up above her corset. "Oh my God, William," she cried. She wrapped her fists in his hair and pulled it tight as she lowered her mouth as close to his ear as she could. "I remember you _ruining me_ here on this kitchen table a few years ago," she said, out of breath and dry. Her womb cramped tight as he wrapped his arms around her and stood up. " _Oh my God,"_ her mind raced forward, " _He's going to take me right here!"_

His mouth released her nipple and she took his earlobe in her mouth, sucking hard on it. Her breath thundered into his ear, blasting demandingly from her nostrils. "I want you in the bed," he said into her ear. He walked, with his wife wrapped fervently around him, to the light switch, and flicked it off. He carried her toward the light beckoning from atop the stairs. Concentrating on ignoring her as she released his earlobe and took a firm hold of his neck, sure to leave a mark. " _Oh, you are so in for a ruining_ ," he thought.

As William put his foot up on the first step, the sound of the washing cupboard's buzzer rang through the air. Julia sagged. She was obviously as disappointed by the reminder as he was. He exhaled and stepped back from the steps, letting her slide to the ground as he did so. She did not let go of her arms around his neck however, as she was still fighting with her urges. They stood still together for a moment before she said, "I'll put it in the dryer and take care of the rest." She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and finished, "You go on upstairs, I'll be there later… I promised, and I don't want her to wake up without having the bear there with her."

"Good," he answered and headed up the stairs without her.

The fresh-smelling, clean, teddy bear, with his sutured and wrapped arm in a miniature sling, rested peacefully next to little Chelsea's shoulder. Julia contentedly kissed the sleeping child goodnight and quietly closed the door. Her husband was sound asleep already, dampening her amorous plans. She undressed and put on her nightgown, expecting the little ones to come knocking in the morning, and not wishing to scramble around trying to find something to cover her naked body when they did so. William would get up early and go to mass. She sighed, thinking of his needing to confess his sins for killing a man – this very morning, with a stone. " _My God that seemed like a lifetime ago,_ " she thought. She tucked in close to William, taking in the smell of him. Just as the waves of sleep rocked her away, she remembered standing with him behind her, holding her in his arms as he turned her, to see the glorious rainbow. He really did bring a magical love to her life.

 _ **One year earlier, William had taught Julia to offer the life-threatening lightning an alternative path – one that 'tricks' it into going away from what is vital, by squatting down low and holding your heels together. The dangerous electrical storm they had faced today offered a similar peril, it approached rapidly, poised to kill. Similar tactics extended their lives as they led the hunters astray, allowing for another chance, creating another possible outcome, finding another way, to divert the storm's deadly power, leaving it open and vulnerable to being extinguished, in this case from another, newer member of their team. William and Julia had survived the worst series of thunderstorms they would ever encounter. Their love had conquered all. Tomorrow, just as much as any other day, would likely bring joy and challenges as well. They would face them stronger, for they would never, ever doubt the power of their love in the face of whatever may come.**_

 _ **(Note: Two more chapters, don't go away)**_


	17. Chapter 17

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 16: Sunday, August 17, 1913

The Toronto Gazette placed the story above the fold, right next to the major one for the day, which was ominously titled, "Balkan Wars Intensify, Threatening World War." The headline read, "Toronto's Favorite Couple Leads Plan to Thwart Prison Escape." The accompanying photo was the only one on the front page. It showed her employers, Detective Murdoch and Dr. Ogden, next to a ripped and battered hot-air balloon. Eloise smiled at the picture, seeing the love they had for each other in their eyes, feeling her heart warm knowing they were finally well, that the whirlwind of their lives had finally calmed down. Most Sunday mornings she did not work, but today she wanted to be there, to see the family happy and together again. It was early; she wanted to have breakfast ready before the detective headed off to Church. She planned to surprise him, like she had done when his wife had been abducted, and she was being accused of having an abortion, thus facing the gallows if she was found. That was just a few days ago, but, now, she wanted to surprise him with a mood of celebration rather than consolation. To welcome the doctor home, she was planning on making her mistress' favorite breakfast – French toast. Oh, how she looked forward to having the little ones around again. She was truly surprised at how much she had come to think of them all as family, and she surely had missed them.

Having slept through the night, like logs, William and Julia each were far off in dreamland when the soft, golden dawn kissed the room. A light breeze fluttered the curtains. A gigantic smile covered William's face as he enjoyed his dream. It centered, of course, on Julia, starting more as a memory, but then morphing, as dreams will do.

They sat at the kitchen table, talking about being kicked out of the Club. He had expressed his concern about, as Isabel Webster would say, "ruining" her life. When she stood and prepared to sit on his lap, suddenly she was wearing the ripped and torn, blue dress that she had worn while they hid in the trees and threw rocks at their stalkers. The dress was even skimpier than it had been in real-life. There was a tear over one of her shoulders, allowing for some of her soft, tender skin to be exposed. Her legs were naked under the short skirt, enticingly long, and luscious. She paused before taking her seat, enjoying his reaction to the sight of her. "Do you like it husband?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and wiggling them at him. William found he was so aroused it was hard to speak; he just nodded and swallowed, prompting her to giggle. "Good," she said. "Now, about the Club …"

All of a sudden, they were in the coat room at the Club. The chatter of people dining in the restaurant, with the clinks of silverware and glasses, filtered into the little room, somewhat muffled by the abundant, puffy coats. Julia had backed him, through a rack of hanging coats, into a wall. Aggressively, she worked to remove his clothing. She seemed to be in a rush. His mind swam around and around, and he was struggling to breathe, striving to gain some control over the situation. " _This is a public place_ ," he thought, " _Anyone could come to collect their coat – at any moment!_ " His mind pushed for him to tell her to stop, but, _**OH**_ , his body felt hurled and flung towards grabbing ahold of her with all his might and having his way with her.

She had advanced quite far in undressing him; his tie was – who knows where, his vest and shirt were completely unbuttoned, she was now tugging at the shirt tails, toiling to untuck them and free the shirt from his trousers. "Julia," he said, finally mastering his voice enough to make a sound, "We can't."

"Oh, but detective," she whispered seductively in his ear, "What better way to _**ruin me**_ than to make wild, passionate love to me in the very place that evicted us for my transgressions." He couldn't think, his head spun so. He felt weak – helpless, as she slid his shirt, vest, and suspenders over his shoulders, and his naked skin felt the air. She took his neck in her mouth, sucking hard against his salty skin, marking him as taken, as he heard his clothing reach the floor. Her fingers grabbed and kneaded the muscles across his chest. He let go a moan. "Shh, detective," she released his neck to warn. " _Oh my God_ ," he thought as his knees grew weak. Julia stepped back a little, leaving enough space between them to demandingly stroke and scratch his chest. "You will need to do the _ruining_ quietly, hmm?" she asked with a whisper, her lips taking his in a kiss, denying him the chance to answer. So quickly and fervently, her velvety tongue breached his lips, dove deeply into him, as she twisted and pressed into him firmly, squashing and dragging his lips and the tip of his nose along as she moved.

Pushed to the edge, he did not think it possible to tolerate anymore, but then he felt her fingers pinch at the top button on his trousers … He began to spiral out of control. Hot, lustful air surged out of his nostrils, announcing his desire for her. His hands gave in to the urge to explore, moved from their rigid post on her hips, to hurriedly conquer every curve of her body. Oh, how his world swirled and melted when she moaned in response. As she worked to undo the third button on his trousers, her knuckles bumped against his burgeoning lust, teasing him deliciously at the focus of his passion, through the cloth. Urgently, his hands dropped to capture her buttocks. Her torn skirt was so short that, as he slid his hands across her rounded flesh, the tips of his fingers encountered bare skin. Defenseless and unguarded, Julia wore absolutely nothing under her skirt. He dropped deeper towards the abyss, and lost his breath with the discovery. " _She's right there!_ " he thought.

He broke off the kiss, found her ear. "Julia," his husky, hungry voice seeped into the hushed air.

"Please ruin me William," she whispered, "Hurry, before someone comes."

His self-control exploded. His dizzying mind was lost. Roughly seizing her in his arms; he spun to switch their positions. Rapidly, he pounded her against the wall, evoking a gasp along with the "thud." She lifted a leg up, wrapping it around him; he could feel her sensuous, firm calf muscle press into his haunches, pull him closer. He reached down, each hand traveling across the delicious skin of her backside, one hand taking a demanding hold of a cheek, the other slipping his fingers between her folds. "You are so delicious," he whispered upon feeling his fingers glide deeper into her warm, slippery, tight resistance. " _Oh my God she feels good_ ," the thought raced and swirled away in his brain.

"Take me now William. Ruin me, deep and hard … ruin me thoroughly, completely…" her weak voice pleaded as he felt her hot and humid breath flood into his ear and drip down over his neck.

"Shh," he whispered.

Just outside the opened door of the coatroom, they heard a woman speaking to her husband as they passed by. William pushed in deeper between the coats. The air was muggy, hot. Their breath and rapidly beating hearts palpable between the soundproofing of their hiding place. William kissed her, deep and strong – needing to silence her, lest they get caught. Once the couple had passed, he reached down and slid his pants down over his alert, ready body. He moaned, hearing Julia's breath rumble over his cheek, and cascade into his ear, as she recognized the impending rupturing of her boundary. "William," she whispered.

Forcefully, fiercely, he drove into her. Oh, she couldn't help but moan, as he felt her fall, devastated by the pleasure of it. He thrust into her with everything he had. He had to get deeper. He had to accelerate. Hard, he surged, each subsequent pound more forceful, each shove prizing another urgent moan from her. He was so close, she was right there. " _Yes, right there_ ," he thought, touching the spot that would ignite ecstasy. He felt it begin, nothing could stop it now. Elation flooded over him, through him. " _Oh this woman is magnificent_ ," he thought as he pumped with all his might, intensifying the glorious surge.

Gradually, William became aware – aware that he was lying in their bed, aware that he was dreaming that he was thrusting deep inside of his wife, aware of the heavenly feeling of his eruption. " _Oh, that feels good,"_ he thought as he felt the heat of his breath gush outward and rebound off of the mattress back into his face. Not since Julia was away in prison had he felt the sticky, damp intrusion in his pajama bottoms. He would need to put them in the laundry basket. Remembering that his plan was to go to early mass, and gauging by the amount of daylight dancing amongst the shadows in their bedroom, he decided it was time to rise.

Quietly, William hurried through his morning routine in the bathroom and then got dressed. He tucked the dirtied pajamas in the laundry basket in the closet, and then turned back to watch Julia sleeping for just a moment. Happiness, contentment, and gratitude filled him, the deep breath he took serving to magnify the feelings. She was truly beautiful; my, he loved her with all his heart.

As soon as he rounded the corner half-way down the stairs, he realized that Eloise was there. The smell of bacon and cinnamon permeated the air, and light clanking sounds occasionally attested to her work. He chuckled to himself, feeling his stomach growl in response. "Eloise," he declared as he entered the kitchen, "How wonderful of you to come so early and make me such a marvelous breakfast."

"Glad to do it, detective," Eloise answered. "And under such better circumstances than the last time I surprised you with a meal," she warmly added, gracing him with a friendly smile.

"That they are," William replied, remembering for just a moment how disheartened he had felt when she had knocked on his office door only four days ago. William saw the newspaper Eloise had placed on the table at his seat and said, "Oh, and you got the paper. Thank you Eloise."

It was a tradition that she would give him a quick assessment of the day's news. Eloise shook her head and said, "The world is in a bad way …" Then her demeanor brightened, "But the story about you and Dr. Ogden is quite nice."

Intrigued, he quickly sat down and buried his nose in the paper. A sadness tweaked in his chest, causing him brief pause, but it passed so quickly that he paid it no mind. He skimmed both front page stories. He told Eloise that they had decided to pay for the balloon, even though Mr. Poundset had said not to bother. " _There goes the refund money from the Club,_ " he thought. Eloise suggested that they invest a bit more, and repair the balloon. Then they could either use it for their own pleasure, as Dr. Ogden was clearly quite an accomplished balloonist, or they could sell it and make back much of their money. William flipped through the pages of the newspaper to find where the story continued, thanking her for her great idea.

Dressed in her robe, and carrying the laundry basket of dirty clothes, Julia joined them in the kitchen. "Good morning Eloise, what a splendid surprise," she happily said, embracing the woman with her free arm, comfortable in revealing her care for, and connection with, the woman she had known for so many years – from back even before she had married William. Smiling broadly she declared, "French toast!"

"Just for you, doctor," Eloise replied.

Julia turned to look at William, "Good morning detective," she said with a spicy, teasing tone. William laid the paper down and stood from the table. He kept his eyes down. Something about the way he looked propelled concern through her. He would not look at her. He said nothing in reply. As he prepared to walk by where she was standing, near Eloise and the stove, he glanced up at her briefly, preparing to step around her. She could see that he was crying. "William, what is it?" her tender voice asked.

He reached up and quickly brushed a tear from his cheek. As he passed her by, he said, "It's nothing."

Julia followed and took his arm, turning him towards her, "Obviously it's not _**nothing**_ William. You're _**crying**_ ," she nearly whispered, with her eyes dilating wide as she attempted to figure out what was going on.

He looked away – towards the doorway he needed, needed so desperately, to get out of the kitchen, and said, "Please Julia." Then he walked past her again. Behind him, still carrying the laundry basket, she followed him to the foyer. William put on his new hat, never looking back at her. "I'll be late for the mass," he said.

Utterly confused, she answered, sounding defeated, "Yes." Before the front door had closed, she hurried to ask, "Are you mad at me?"

William paused. He turned back towards her and, with his chin still down, he mumbled, "No … It's nothing like that… Really, it's nothing, Julia. Please don't worry yourself." William stepped out of the door and closed it softly behind him.

Her ears were ringing; she fought with all her might not to let fear rule her. Mouth agape, somewhat stunned and helpless, she stood staring at the closed door. " _What could possibly have happened?_ " she wondered. " _Could he be that upset about killing the man with the stone yesterday,_ " she thought. She shook her head at herself, she really didn't think so.

Blinking a few times in an effort to clear her head, Julia turned back to the kitchen. She glanced at Eloise's back as the woman stood, cooking a second round of breakfast, at the stove. She headed into the little back room where they had William's laundry cupboard and opened the machine. As she lifted William's pajamas a disturbing thought crossed her mind, " _He soiled these pajamas when he had an … erotic …dream. Maybe the dream was_ _ **not**_ _about her. Perhaps Jane – or someone else… And he has reacted with quite a bit of regret and guilt when such a thing happened in the past…_ "

Julia's thoughts were interrupted as Eloise spoke to her from outside the little room, "Please doctor, I will wash the clothes."

"It's no bother Eloise. I have something here I wanted to be sure to get washed today," Julia replied, finding the torn, blue dress William had found so wild and exciting yesterday, and plopping it into the laundry cupboard with the other clothes. A smile slid on her face as she remembered seeing William pout when she said she would throw it out. She had decided to keep it, realizing that it would fit easily into her purse after she removed the stones she had stuffed in there.

Eloise avoided her eyes after she returned to the kitchen. " _She feels uncomfortable_ ," Julia thought. Needing to know, she swallowed to ensure her voice wasn't raspy, "William was … upset. Did he say anything to you?" she tried to ask nonchalantly.

Clearing her throat before she responded, Eloise said, "No mam." Possible explanations hurried through her head, " _It didn't seem like they had quarreled_ ," she thought, "… _And there was no evidence the detective slept on the couch_." Eloise removed some completed pieces of French toast from the pan and then began placing new ones in, giving her a little bit more time. "I am puzzled actually, everything seemed fine," she continued.

Noticing the newspaper at William's seat at the table, Julia walked over and took a seat in his chair. She lifted the paper as Eloise talked.

Taking her eyes off of the stove briefly to look at the doctor, Eloise said, "We discussed the balloon you flew and crashed… he explained that you would be paying for it and I suggested repairing it … then you could either use it yourselves or sell it. He thought it was a good idea. He seemed fine," she concluded with a shrug. She went back to cooking.

Julia decided to study the paper for potential clues. William had left it folded to page 6. For the most part, that page consisted of the second half of the two major front page stories, one about war in the Balkans and the other about them. She reminded herself to stay focused on looking for something that might have made William cry, as incredulous as that seemed, rather than getting distracted reading the stories. She honestly had to say that nothing in either of those stories seemed like it could realistically have gotten such a reaction from William. She was about to put the paper down, figuring that it must have been something else, when she noticed that there were also multiple advertisements on the page. Some were placed there by big companies, like O'Keefe's beer, she noticed. She considered the situation with O'Keefe for a moment, deciding it was not a likely source of upset for him. But there was also a section containing personal ads. She quickly perused through them, an automobile, a house, some furniture, a puppy, a room for rent…

It took her by surprise, the memory that bubbled up from so long ago. They were still living in the hotel. They had been arguing because he had suggested she doubted her abilities to be a good mother to the children they might adopt because she had had an abortion. It had infuriated her. When they had made up, her convincing him that he couldn't compare her situation now with how things were back when she had made the decision …that's the first time she remembered it happening – he had said he wanted a dog. He had also brought up getting a dog multiple times before William Jr. had been born, even every few years after that. She didn't know why, but she thought, " _That's it – it was this add about the puppy needing a good home, I'm sure of it._ " She was reading it through more thoroughly when she heard the children barreling down the stairs. They sounded upset.

"Mommy?!" Katie called out, quickly followed by William Jr.'s stressed voice, "Mom … Dad?"

Julia answered immediately, "I'm in here." She rushed to meet them – they shared hugs. Having seen their parents' empty bed, the children had become worried that they might have lost their mother and father again. "I'm so sorry," Julia declared over and over. "No, everything is just fine. Daddy got up early and went to Church, and I'm right here," she rushed to explain. She felt awful, Chelsea had been so scared she was actually crying. She picked her littlest daughter up and gave her a hug. The child was clinging to her stuffed bear that Julia had "treated" last night. Her mother changed the subject, distracting the child from her upset. "How is Berry Bear? Does his arm feel better?" she asked.

Chelsea nodded, wiping her tears.

"Good," Julia said. "Now, I'll bet, that even though it's Sunday, and you would normally have to suffer with _**my**_ breakfast, you and Berry Bear are going to be so happy to hear that _**Eloise**_ is cooking breakfast for us today!" she exclaimed, bouncing her little daughter in her arms.

"Yay!" all the children screamed out, prompting Julia to pretend to have her feelings hurt. Katie rushed to care for her mother's feelings, "Don't feel bad Mommy, we love your cooking too." She took her mother's hand as they all walked together to the kitchen, Katie picking up a cheery skip.

William Jr. just couldn't resist the chance to make a joke, though, adding, "Well, except for your toast." He ducked to avoid his Mom's playful slap and then ran ahead into the kitchen. Julia put Chelsea down to join her brother and sister in their stampede to the kitchen. " _I do believe my son has inherited my sense of humor,_ " she giggled to herself as she hurried to catch up.

By the time Julia entered the kitchen, the children had practically buried Eloise in hugs and kisses, much to the woman's delight. "Oh I missed you so much!" she cried. "And you had so many adventures. You will have to tell me all about them," she added.

Each child took their customary seat, but Julia returned to sitting in William's chair, puzzling her children. "Why are you sitting in Daddy's seat Mommy?" Katie asked.

"I wanted to see what things look like from your Daddy's point of view," she answered. "For instance, now I see that Daddy gets to sit right across from a beautiful little girl – no wonder he's always so happy in the morning," she explained further. However, her mind flashed an image of the two of them upstairs in their bed making love, which, of course they do nearly every morning, providing another possible source for her husband's typical morning glee – the thought brought warmth into her heart and a tiny tug at her womb as well.

The newspaper pushed to the side for now, sometimes pulling at her attention, Julia engaged lovingly with her children while they ate. After her trauma of seeing the butchering of the dead deer, Chelsea had become concerned about the sources of her food, asking whether this or that thing came from an animal. Learning that the bacon was a form of meat, and that all meat came from animals, Chelsea decided that she didn't want any bacon. Her mother respected her decision, but silently hoped she would soon be swayed to accept meat in her diet. The eggs, as part of the batter for the French toast, were a little less clear. But Chelsea accepted the reasoning that the eggs had never been fertilized by the male chicken's – the rooster's, sperm, so it wasn't really killing an animal, and she smiled and bounced contently as she ate her French toast. " _An unexpected benefit of having explained sex to the children_ ," Julia thought.

As Eloise picked up dirty dishes from the table, she noticed the newspaper and remembered some of the exciting stories she had read during the recent turmoils the family had experienced. She asked, "So, I bet you girls were excited to see that the newspapers called your mother, "Toronto's Cinderella," hmm?"

Both Katie and Chelsea gasped and shared a look, then darted their wide eyes to their mother. "Really Mommy," Katie exclaimed. "Did Daddy find your slipper, like Prince Charming!?" she rushed to ask.

"Well, yes he did, I suppose," she responded. Looking to Eloise she asked, "Did the papers really report the story that way?"

Having the floor, Eloise glowed with excitement, "Well, the Toronto Gazette sure did," she declared.

William Jr. asked, "Did Dad use your shoe as a clue to find you?"

All eyes, including Eloise's turned to Julia. She rested her chin in her hand and contemplated about it for a moment before she answered. "Your father had found my shoe on the ground where the man had taken me captive – I intentionally slid it off for your Daddy to find … and he had located and arrested the man," she started. "And, my _**other**_ shoe was found in the man's buckboard wagon …" she continued. "So your Daddy was getting close to finding me – But really, I saved myself and went back to your Daddy before he actually had to save me… at least this time," she added.

"Wow!" Chelsea declared, "Mommy and Daddy are famous like fairytales."

"Um-hmm," her sister agreed; her mouth now full of her last bite of French toast.

After Julia and the children got dressed for the day, she asked them to play for a while outside. She had to make some phone calls. She called the number for the puppy needing a good home. A man answered. He explained that no one else had called and he was desperate. The puppy was wonderful- already nearly housebroken at four months, sits and stays, is great with children and other pets. His wife and children had already left for Europe and he was to leave very soon himself, on Tuesday. He begged her to take the dog. She was tempted, but she also was certain that it had to be William's decision – she wasn't even sure the puppy was what he had been upset about. Maybe William didn't want a dog. She arranged with the man that she would call back by this evening, one way or another, and the man agreed to call her if anyone else expressed interest in the puppy.

She also called Mrs. O'Keefe to confirm their dinner invitation on Friday and left a message with the maid. Before she joined the children, she took the clean, dry clothes out of the laundry cupboard and put them away. Tucking the "wild" blue dress under the clothes in her underwear drawer, she wondered if she would put it on for William tonight. Hearing herself sigh, she knew things were up in the air. " _We'll see,_ " she thought.

Before William even opened the door, he could tell his family was having a great time. The Victrola played a waltz, and it sounded like one child or another was playing the piano along with the music by repeating the same three piano keys in a rhythmical sequence. Once he was inside, he could hear energetic voices – there seemed to be dancing going on. No one heard him come in with all of their own commotion going on. He placed his gifts, an impressive bouquet of three dozen roses, arranged by color to create a rainbow, having borrowed some blue salvias for the blue and some ferns for the green, a large box of chocolates, and a tin of biscotti, down on the high shelf in the foyer. A new pocketknife to replace Julia's, now-dull, one was waiting in his pocket. He placed his new hat on the rack, pausing for a moment to miss his old one.

He only got to soak in the beautiful scene for a few moments before he was spotted standing in the entryway to the parlor. The furniture had been pushed to the sides to create a large dance floor. He was impressed that it was their five-year old daughter, Chelsea, playing the piano. His son was dancing a waltz with his wife, and doing so well enough that William could recognize the steps, and he had not tripped or stepped on his, much taller, mother's toes either. Katie was thoroughly enjoying waltzing with a pillow. He wished he would be able to remember the sight forever.

Katie spotted him first. "Daddy's home!" she alerted. She dropped the pillow like a hot potato and ran to him full speed. William squatted down to prepare for her leap, and she jumped into his arms to be lifted up and spun around, evoking such magnificent laughter. He quickly put her down, knowing there would be more incoming children right behind her, receiving Chelsea first, to be joined with a big hug from William Jr.

Julia stood still, near the center of the room, temporarily abandoned, but thoroughly pleased to take her turn having her spirits soared by watching such a wonderful scene. Briefly, she remembered he had left the house in tears – he seemed fine now. She anticipated the moment … the moment when his eyes would meet hers. She listened intently while William told William Jr., "You certainly did much better learning to waltz than I did – the first time your mother and I ever danced together was when we were taking dancing lessons, and I tripped …"

That's when it happened, he looked at her, mid-sentence, melting her. The power of their connection stunned him sufficiently that he paused before he finished his sentence, needing a second to remember what he had been saying. "I um … I," his eyes dropped back down to William Jr.'s, then he chuckled before he said, "I tripped and ended up grabbing your Mommy's rear-end, while everybody in the dance studio was watching." William Jr.'s eyes grew big at the disclosure, and the image as it played in his mind.

Walking towards them, targeting her husband, Julia added, "Thank goodness, he's a much better dancer now." Taking her turn, she placed her hand to William's cheek and leaned in towards him to be taken into a hug. She stayed there, close to him, aware of his scent, lifting her eyes to his – their children watching the show, and said, "Dance with me William."

Finding her irresistible, he quickly granted her wish. As their father "assumed the position," with his right arm out to the side and his left one ready to hold his partner right under her underarm, he asked for the record to be re-set at the beginning. Julia took his hand in hers and found his strong shoulder for her other hand, and they pushed off, gliding along like experts.

Katie Oohed. Chelsea stared, mouth opened wide. Even William Jr. was touched by the sight, whispering slowly, "Wow!"

Knowing the end of the record was approaching, William slowed the dance and kissed her, ending standing still with the music, lips locked together. Their hearts were racing from the exercise and from the effect each had on the other... And there was also that delicious swimming in their brains, with the accompanying tightening in their lower areas. It only lasted a moment; then they remembered where they were, that their children were watching. They broke off the kiss, William giving her a quick peck on the cheek before they stepped apart.

"That was beautiful, Mommy," Katie said.

"Yes it was," she said with a nod to her husband, prompting a shy smile from him.

Katie was thinking, there had to be a way she could dance with them. "Do you think I could dance with you this time, maybe I could ride on Daddy's back? She asked.

"Hey Dad," William Jr. said excitedly. "I could ride on your back and Katie could ride on Mom's," he suggested.

As William thought about the mechanics, imagining the physics of the proposal, Chelsea complained, "What about me?"

Her brother answered, "You can play the piano."

Chelsea stepped to her mother's side, preparing to cry and make a scene. Her voice wrinkling into tears and she whined, "I don't want to play the piano – I want to dance too!"

Julia looked down at her, disappointed at the child's dramatic approach, but agreeing she should not be left out of the fun. "Chelsea, I promise, you will get to dance with your Daddy and me … It just may not be at the …"

William leaned down and picked Chelsea up in his arms, his eyes connecting with his wife's. "Actually, I do believe we can have a complete Murdoch family dance."

The glint in her husband's eye both excited, _**and**_ worried her. William tended to take more physical risks with the children than Julia liked. Although she was pulled by his eagerness, her motherly instincts won out, and her face took on fret. "Without having to take a trip down to the hospital?" she warned.

William put Chelsea down and quickly described his plan. They could put William Jr. on his back, Katie on hers, and Chelsea holding on in front of him, between them, while they danced. Yes, they would need to go a little slower, and yes, it would be challenging, but he wanted to try it.

A few toes had to suffer a crunch or two, but overall the smiles, screeches of glee, and laughter – along with the magnanimous overall FUN, made it all worth it. Fairly soon into the family waltz, the adults caught a rhythm and their dance took on its customary flying feel. Clearly though, the plan demanded a bit more effort from the Mommy and the Daddy than was calculated, and Julia gave her husband an exhausted look before the record finished. He danced the family over to the side of the room where the couches were waiting, turning Julia so she would be able to sit down, holding her hand as she sat on the couch. Katie still behind her, both of them gently landed on the cushions. He alerted William Jr. that they were going to sit next. Once William turned his back to the couch, the young boy extended his legs and let go to end up standing on the couch before his father sat with little Chelsea in his arms.

Katie jumped up and began hopping on the couch, "Let's do it again! Let's do it again!" she urged.

William Jr. bolted towards the Victrola – at this point the music had ended. "I'll re-set the record," he declared.

William and Julia shared a look; they were both clearly too winded to have another round, at least right now. Julia insisted, "No, no. Your parents are completely tired out. We'll dance again later…"

"We can leave the furniture, so we will still have the 'dance floor' ready," William added. He turned to look at his wife, now sitting next to him. A big smile illuminated his face.

She returned an invigorated smile of her own and said, "That was absolutely lovely, William," grabbing his arm and locking hers into it with a squeeze.

Remembering that he had bought her flowers and chocolates, he said, "Oh, but there's even more my love," with a slight bow. He lifted Chelsea off of his lap and stood, offering Julia a hand. He escorted her to the foyer as children zigzagged around them excitedly, expecting they would likely be getting part of the goodies too.

William Jr. spotted the gifts up on the high shelf. "I see flowers!" he called out, pointing, unable to reach.

William brought down the big, colorful bouquet, lowering it for the children to see before he handed it to Julia. "It's a rainbow Mommy!" Katie declared, "It's so beautiful!"

Gasping, Julia's mind replayed the awe-filled moment when William turned her around to see the spectacular rainbow across the gray sky. She was touched, sufficiently so to become choked-up with happiness. "Oh William," she said.

He leaned in towards her over the flowers, taking her face in both hands. A light, tender kiss reinforced the touch.

"Can I see them, Mommy?" Katie asked. Julia stepped back from William and handed the bouquet down to her wide-eyed daughter. Chelsea crowded in next to her sister to share in the smell and the sight of the vivid spectrum of flowers.

Knowing his children well, William was concerned they would soon begin to argue over who would get to hold the flowers. "Look at what else I got for Mommy," he interjected. All eyes turned to the shelf to try to see the other gifts. He reached up and brought into view a gigantic box of chocolates…

"Wow! Chocolates!" Chelsea exclaimed, holding her hands up for her father to give her the box.

William looked to Julia and asked, "They are for your Mommy, but I'm pretty sure…"

Julia nodded, and he placed the box in her hands, finishing, "… she would want to share them with you."

Spotting a metal box, William Jr. called out, "What's that? What's in that box!?"Checking with Julia first, William brought the box down for his son, explaining that it contained a treat called "biscotti" which was delicious, much like a cookie. "Can we all have one?" he asked as he removed the lid and took in the delectable smell.

"Mm-hmm," their father answered as he reached up to what appeared to be an empty shelf for one more thing. He figured, particularly his wife, would be excited about this one, although doubt pulsed through him as he revealed to her what it was.

"William," she exclaimed, "You wrote me a love-note?" as she took the envelope from his fingers, keeping her blue eyes transfixed on his warm brown ones.

He nodded and added, "Even better…"

But before he could finish, she surprised him, throwing her arms around his neck and backing him into the wall. "You are so romantic husband," she declared, bringing her lips enticingly close to his.

Clearing his throat, and taking her in his arms, he said, "Some of the words rhyme, so … I think you could call it a poem."

Not wanting to debate with him about whether or not a poem had to rhyme, she said, "So, you wrote your wife, of over ten years, a love- _ **poem**_ then?"

"Mm-hmm," he answered.

"William Henry Murdoch, you astound me sometimes," she said, barely above a whisper, before she tilted her head and slowly brought her lips to his, her brain and her insides melting and swirling in luscious delight as she felt the softness of the man's lips. Their kiss quickly deepened and the children shared surprised and happy looks with each other – at least before they remembered their game of complaining about their parents' kissing. Just as William Jr. was about to roll his eyes and harp about it…

The doorbell rang. William Jr. opened the door before the couple had a chance to break off their kiss. The Brackenreid's quickly took in the scene – the children, the gifts, their parents, all somehow standing in the foyer together, and the doctor seeming to be having her way with the detective.

They heard the Inspector's voice before they stopped kissing, startling them into jumping apart as if they were two unruly schoolchildren who had been caught by the Principal. Margaret's mouth dropped in shock and she turned to share her appalled look with her husband. William immediately turned red.

"Well now, doctor," the Inspector started, "Still taking advantage of chances for kinoodeling, I see," he teased, barely able to hold back his laughter.

The Murdoch children were very happy to learn that the Brackenreid's would be living in their house, even if it was just for a little while. They would be in the apartment above Claire-Marie's until their house was finished being re-constructed.

While the children showed the Brackenreid's the various gifts their father had bought their mother, William went to get the keys to their new apartment. Margaret found the biscotti to be irresistible, asking to take one for herself and one for her husband.

Katie excitedly asked, "Mrs. Brackenreid, did you hear that our Mommy and Daddy are like Cinderella and Prince Charming?"

It took her a moment to make the connection between what the child was saying and the newspaper articles, but as she remembered her face lit up and she replied, "Yes of course, "Toronto's Cinderella," as she looked to Julia. "Just like the fairytale, he found only your shoe."

Julia nodded. She felt uncomfortable with the topic, as if, somehow, she was worried that Margaret would be jealous, so she changed the subject. "Margaret, I never got a chance to thank you for caring for our girls – taking them out to see a play and to lunch. It was very generous and kind of you," she said.

Margaret looked back down at the girls and answered, "We did have such a fun time, didn't we girls?"

Both Katie and Chelsea replied, "Yes!" And then Katie added, "Thank you Mrs. Brackenreid."

William returned with the keys and they stood in the foyer for a moment talking. It was decided that William would go with them to show them around. They would need to be shown the laundry and dishwashing cupboards and a few other things. Julia would prepare the Murdoch family lunch – a picnic in the backyard. The Inspector began to talk about the case, telling Murdoch that they had found the dirigible on a big boat out on Lake Ontario, as Murdoch had speculated. Margaret became annoyed, and insisted that they not talk shop. Disappointed, both men knew they'd best do as she asked. The three of them, and the two off-duty constables helping the Inspector move, headed around the side of the house to the private entrance.

Out in the backyard, the Murdoch's sat spread out on two blankets in the grass. Julia had also brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses, hoping William would join her, which, to her delight, he did. Chelsea had worried that peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches might be made from an animal, but was reassured that they were not. Julia had had to whisper to William about Chelsea's new found discomfort with eating meat – likely a result of seeing the deer being butchered.

Taking in a deep breath, smelling the grass and the peanut-butter, Julia found herself drifting back to the memory of when she and William had had a similar picnic so many, many years ago. A big smile curled on her lips when William brought up the exact same thing.

"The first time I ever kissed your mother we were having a picnic just like this," he said. "We were on a picnic blanket on the grass on a beautiful day… and our main course was peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches," he added.

Julia giggled and leaned over towards him, lightly knocking into his shoulder. "Really William, I do believe it was _**I**_ who kissed you. I believe… you said you were disappointed about something, and I would have none of that, so," she paused to give him a kiss on the cheek, "I kissed you."

Katie called out, "Did you fall in love right then and there, Mommy?"

Julia sighed and sat up a straighter. She spoke to Katie, but her eyes held William's as she explained, "I was already in love with your father before we kissed… But, oh my, after we kissed that night, well after that, I was _**head-over-heels**_ in love with him."

"How about you Dad?" William Jr. asked.

William cleared his throat and broke eye contact with Julia to turn and look at William Jr. "You children have been told these stories countless times… But, yes, I was already in love with your mother before we kissed – I had fallen in love with her the moment I saw her. I thought that she was the one for me from that moment on," he explained. Having finished his sandwich, William took a sip of wine and then reached over to the edge of the blanket, placing the wine glass down on the tray and picking up a small notebook. He began drawing. "Now," he said, "I have been thinking about that treehouse we were planning on building… Excitedly the children started sharing their hopes – that the treehouse would have some windows that could open and close and a glass ceiling so they could see the starts at night, and multiple others. Julia played with William's hair lovingly while he drew-up the plans, looking on as he worked.

Meanwhile, the Brackenreid's had finished bringing up their first load and sent the constables to have lunch, with plans to meet them later to pick up another load. Margaret looked out the second-story window at the Murdoch's in the backyard. " _They look very happy_ ," she thought. Memories of her own family, when their two boys were younger, ran through her mind. Watching the Murdoch's enjoy their lunch, she remembered she was hungry and thoughts of cooking for herself and Thomas took center stage of her attention.

Back in the yard, William ushered the children to come in closer as he showed them his drawings. The treehouse should be high enough, but not too high up in the tree, about one third of the way up a thick-trunked tree. The tree should have at least three big, horizontal, branches – that travel straight out for at least five feet, he pointed to the picture he had drawn, in order to hold up the floor and walls. And, it would be best if there was about six feet of open space above these horizontal branches, so they can have a ceiling that is high enough for them to stand up inside the treehouse. He handed the papers over to William Jr. and sent them on their way to find the perfect tree.

The children hopped up with enthusiasm and headed across the grass towards the woods. Taking advantage of being alone with her husband, Julia brought her nose into the crook of William's neck and inhaled his scent, then giving him a few kisses. He pulled away abruptly, placing his hand to her cheek, asking her to wait a moment, and yelled out, "Oh."

The children halted in their tracks and turned back to face their father, much like regimented soldiers.

"Stay on our side of the stone wall," William instructed.

"O.K. Daddy," Katie answered first, and they turned and hurried off on their important assignment once more.

Julia pulled William down with her as she lay down. He brought his face close to hers and she pulled him down further into a kiss, and then tilted her head, another kiss, then a change of angle and another. Oh, how she loved the sound their lips made as each kiss broke off before another began.

Annoyingly, her husband's mind seemed to be stuck on his "To do" list, as he broke off a kiss and pulled back to say, "I need to fix that wall, like I did at lake-house. The stones have spread out and it has lost its height."

Julia took a deep breath as two thoughts swirled and competed in her mind. She strove for patience, but then she also remembered looking out the lake-house window and seeing him, bare-chested. " _Mm, he did look quite …enticing,"_ she thought. Deciding she wanted his tie off, and she wanted it off now, she began working on it with her fingers as she said, "No shirt – yum."

William caught her eye with a scowl, making her giggle. He couldn't hold the expression for long, though, for Julia's fingers loosening his tie, her magnetic blue eyes, and the way his stomach flipped over when she laughed – these things started to produce a rise in him. He cleared his throat and tried to push away the feeling, to get back to his planning. "And I need to fix the secret passageway door up in the girls' room – so it won't…"

Julia aggressively took him in a kiss. His head began to swim, and yet, wanting to tease her, as soon as she released his lips and began to nibble on his ear, he continued, "So it won't scratch the floor."

Impatiently, she kissed him again, now taking handfuls of his hair and demandingly pulling him down into a deeper kiss. Oh, the lusciousness of it, and he yielded, pressing strongly against her, driving deeper into her mouth, allowing the surge of his breath through his nostrils to announce his desire to be inside of her.

Julia's womb wrenched and twisted. A moan betrayed her state of weakness. Her heart raced so quickly, and she felt challenged to get sufficient air. Turning her head to the side, stopping the intensity from flaming higher, she whispered, struggling to catch her breath, "Oh my God William… How do you do this to me? One kiss and I'm putty in your hands." He chuckled and kissed her again.

Margaret still watched intently from the window upstairs, her eyes glued on the couple. Thomas stepped behind her, focusing to determine what so captivated her attention. He knew her to be quite a nosy neighbor, and intended to tell her to behave, but seeing the detective and the doctor so … engaged… caught him by surprise.

"The girls tell me they kiss all the time… It seems they were not exaggerating," she explained.

Down on the picnic blanket, William's fingers began to explore Julia's body, wreaking havoc inside of her. "William – we have to talk about where this is going," she pleaded.

Knowing they could not make love out here in the middle of the day, when their children could return at any moment, William suggested in her ear, the intoxicating scratchiness in his voice sending a tightening jolt to her womb, "Let's go upstairs," before his lips once again covered hers and he pushed deeply down into her.

Somewhere in her spinning head, she chased a thought of how frightened the children had been upon seeing their bed empty this morning… She broke off the kiss, begrudgingly, for it felt very, very good, and said, "We can't William. The children will get scared if they see the empty blanket."

In between kisses and nips along her jaw, he replied, "They are quite smart Julia; they will figure it out."

"No William, no. You don't understand," she tried to explain, lifting her head and making a feeble attempt at pushing him away. Failing, she dropped her head back down on the blanket and explained, while William nibbled on her ear, "This morning … Our empty bed frightened them. They have been through a lot…" She could not finish her point, he had seized her lips again. She so wanted to yield to him. To feel him push into her, melt her and spin her into ecstasy like only he could. Ultimately, she knew she had to stop him, even though she wanted nothing more than for him to continue. Turning her head away, the kiss was broken, and William pulled back enough for her to speak. "We will have other chances … later tonight," she said, "But for now, saner heads must prevail."

Accepting his fate, for he knew she was right, William disappointedly whispered, before softly continuing to kiss her neck, "Not till tonight."

Gradually their hearts slowed, their breathing rates began to recover, their heads steadied. Julia took a deep breath and pushed against him, prompting him to roll over onto his back, then she slid her hand across his chest as she propped her elbow into the blanket and rested her head in her hand. A bit more distance between them now, her thoughts began to return to normal. "About this morning William…"

His jaw tightened instantly. He did not want to talk about this. He sat up, trying to avoid the discussion, at least physically. His sigh filled the air between them.

Julia sat up and slid her body down to line up next to his on the picnic blanket. "William, I think we need to talk about this."

His eyes glanced at hers before dropping away. There was the slightest shake of his head.

Julia tilted her head and leaned down, making an effort to catch his eye. She asked him, "Are we going to fight about this William?"

Both Brackenreid's observed the younger couple through their window. Each felt lustful stirrings, stimulated by what they saw. But now Murdoch and his wife seemed to be arguing, and Thomas felt uncomfortable sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. Hearing him sigh, Margaret made sure to speak before he had a chance to complain. "The girls also said that it is not uncommon for the detective and the doctor to have disagreements; that the detective has spent plenty a night sleeping on the couch." She placed her hands on her hips and turned to face her husband, "You certainly know what that is like," she claimed.

"Now Margaret, the couch here is too small for me to sleep on," he argued.

She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice, but holding a cautionary tone, "All the more reason for you to be very good, Thomas." She stood on her toes to bring her lips closer to his ear and whispered, "And it certainly wouldn't hurt to make me want to have you in my bed." Her hands slid up along his upper arms and his broad shoulders, then clasping around his neck. She leaned in and gave him a kiss.

His body responded and he deepened the kiss. After breaking it off, he said, "Margaret! In the middle of the day?"

"We need to christen our new – at least for a little while, home," she responded, pressing closer to him and kissing him again.

Taking her firmly in his arms, he agreed, "Every home does need to be christened. He looked at the bed and added, "Every bed too."

"Oh Thomas," she declared.

After Julia had pushed him to tell her what had upset him this morning, William struggled. Truth be told, he was embarrassed by his reaction to something so miniscule, and he really didn't want to share his over-reaction with her. He felt like a spoiled little kid who had cried because he didn't get what he had wanted. It didn't make sense, and he just wished they could forget it. "Julia, it was nothing. I just over-reacted is all," he said – again.

With a look of disappointment on her face, she argued, "William, it's not like you to cry at the drop of hat…" Her face brightened as she added, "Well … maybe there was _**one**_ hat…"

Their eyes met after she leaned in to playfully bump against him, her joke eliciting a smile from him. "I loved that hat," he agreed. She giggled.

She took a deep breath and decided to try to help him feel more comfortable about his "over-reaction." She reached over and took his hand and said, "William, we have all been through quite a lot – _**you**_ have been through quite a lot. Our children were missing, after almost being killed. You thought I was dead, and you thought I might go to the gallows. You have been shot at - twice, and nearly drowned. When Brogan almost shot you with the rifle, _**you**_ even thought for a moment that _**you**_ were dead." She paused, another thought taking center stage in her mind. She let go of his hand and reached up to hold his face, turning him to her, "William, all of this after I was in prison, for what could have been two years, and then you had to invent a hazmat suit for me to survive my encounter with a deadly poison – and to top it all off, our son being eight-years old, like you were when your mother died… And, if I'm right, you found your mother's body in the water in the _**summertime**_ …" She waited, and he nodded. "It's an anniversary William," she explained.

He looked puzzled, "An anniversary?" he asked.

"Yes William. Anniversaries are not only markers in time for good things, like being born or being married," she gave him a little squeeze and continued, "They also can mark painful things – like the death of your mother…" She saw him thinking, turning something over in his beautiful mind. "What is it William?" she asked.

Taking a deep breath, and feeling the emotions even more strongly, as he began to speak, and the air slid over his burning heart, he told her, "When I first picked up the paper this morning – I just looked at the date … and I felt this intense sadness, um, for a moment…"

"When, exactly, did your mother die, William?" she posed.

He dropped his chin, but held her eye, making his brown eyes even lovelier as they peered up at her through his dark, thick lashes, and he exhaled sharply. She could tell he was feeling pain. He wrinkled his face, as he often did to admit something, and said, "She died on August 16th – we buried her on the 17th – the same date as today."

Reassuringly she suggested, "So that would explain why certain things would get …exaggerated, for you around this time, hmm?"

"Yes," he replied. He took another deep breath and added, "Good."

Julia's face showed her concern as she thought, " _Oh, he thinks we're done."_ He held eye contact, waiting for her to figure out how to say whatever was worrying her. "Um, William… you still haven't told me why you were crying…"

His stomach felt sick as dread seeped in. He so didn't want to do this. His eyes dropped away. "Julia, I uh …" he started, finishing by shaking his head.

"Was it about the dog, William?" she asked. His eyes leaped up and connected with hers, revealing his surprise – and awe. She knew she had it right. He knew that she knew. He looked away. Still quiet. " _How did she do that? How did she possibly know?_ " he wondered. Unexpectedly, he felt relieved that she knew, less alone, more understood. It felt good. " _She really is such an amazing woman,_ " he reminded himself.

Julia took his hand again and said, "I called. The family is relocating to Europe and they can't take the dog with them. The man begged me to take him for you William..."

He placed his other hand over hers. After a big sigh, he laid her back down on the blanket and nudged an elbow into the blanket so he could rest his chin in his hand. He lie next to her, his other arm resting on his side. He told her about his father giving away his dog, Duke, when he was a young boy. He explained, "I was still so in shock about everything, the death of my mother, finding her still and motionless body floating face-down in the water, blaming him for causing her death, and then, after the funeral, he told us that Susanna and I would have to go live with an Aunt we barely knew… Everything changed so much, so quickly. And then to lose Duke…" William became choked up but continued, "That dog was so dedicated to me. It was just more than I could take." Sparkling tears filled his eyes, held at bay only by his long, thick lashes. He blinked, and they flooded out.

She wiped away a tear, and said, "And all of this happened when you were eight years old, like your son is now. You were so young, and you lost so much, hmm?" asking him to see how hard it had been for him. Julia propped herself up on an elbow, aligning her eyes with his and leaned over to kiss his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears. Her heart ached. "William, I remember when we first got married, and we were living in the hotel …" she said. He nodded, he was with her. She went on, "And we were thinking of adopting, and then eventually I got pregnant and we debated about whether or not to try to have the child, despite the risks to my life…" she paused.

"Mm, I remember," he said, as he nodded and smiled at the memory, and his gratefulness that she had talked him into trying so that they now had William Jr.

"One of the things you said all the time back then was that you wanted a dog. And we never got one… Even after that, it seemed like every once in a while, you brought up the idea again… And yet, we never got one. We agreed it would be too difficult to find the time to walk it, or whatever other reasons stopped us…" she explained, and then took a deep breath. Placing a hand to his face, Julia said, "The timing is perfect to adopt this dog – to finally have something in this sad story move towards healing, hmm? … Come on, let's call," she encouraged.

"Are you sure?" he asked, unable to hide the excitement on his face.

Back inside, William hung up the phone. Julia's smile was almost as big as his. They hugged and she gave him a kiss. He left to go get the dog. Julia went back to the backyard and began cleaning up after their picnic. " _Knowing William_ ," she thought, " _He'll come up with some way to help with walking the dog. Perhaps he can find a way to let the dog out without damaging the part of the yard we use so much – I can see it now, some kind of an imaginary fence or something – maybe even with a small amount of electricity and some special gadget on the collar_."

Her mind drifted back to Jim Dermott, and having had to work with him, when she wore William's Hazmat suit and solved the problem of the poisoning of Stationhouse#5's coroner. She stopped to probe herself, " _Why would I possibly be thinking about that now, after all of the emotions I just went through with William about the dog?_ " And then she remembered, a couple of years ago, when she and William had had a huge fight about his taking too big of risks with the children, and she had behaved shamefully, flirting with Dermott in front of William in order to gain power over him…" _Oh my God_ ," she marveled, " _this is so messy and mixed together!_ " The case they had been working on involved a murderer **whose father had forced him to drown a dog** **that had followed him home from school** **when he was a small boy**. William had been very upset about that story. And then, the man's own father had ended up killing him to stop him from killing more people. Julia shook her head in disbelief as she thought, "And then William began to have doubts about his ability to be a good father, because he had been raised by Harry." She sighed, " _I wonder if William's remembering all of this will make it harder for him to trust Harry now?_ " she thought.

Arriving back from their hunt for the perfect tree, and seeing the picnic cleaned up and their parents nowhere outside, the children came rushing into the kitchen, and pulled Julia out of her thoughts. Fortunately they were not the least bit worried when they didn't see her or William right away.

It turned out that Chelsea had told her brother and sister about seeing a hunter butcher a deer in woods up near the lake-house. Julia gave herself a little smile, " _She doesn't need it to be Berry Bear anymore_ ," she thought. She picked her littlest daughter up and pulled her into her lap for a big hug. After Julia told the children that their father had gone to get a puppy, they could barely control themselves. They were very excited.

When William returned, he not only had the puppy, he had a large crate, and a bag-full of dog toys, and some "Spratt's Patent Limited" dog food as well. The puppy was adorable, although clearly a mutt. He was brindle in color, and his hair was somewhat wiry, particularly around his face, making him appear to have a beard. He was playful, but relatively quiet, even when he was placed in this brand new home with all these brand new people. Julia knew enough about dogs, having had some herself as a child, to know that this dog was going to be big – he had very big feet for his body, and he would grow into them.

William was focused on setting the ground-rules and expectations, for both the puppy and the children, right away. The children needed to act calmly and confidently when dealing with the puppy. She watched as William asked each child, one at a time, to give the puppy a toy, or one of the "biscuits" and then that same child would take the item away from the dog. William explained that this would teach the dog where he fit in the pecking order – at the bottom. Julia made a face at him when he asked her to do the same thing, but she quickly acquiesced, wanting to please William, and wanting to establish the tradition that William was in charge of whatever happened with this dog.

In the end, William did have a plan to avoid having to walk the dog. He would build a fence around the side yard, and make a door at the back of the room off of the kitchen where they had the laundry cupboard. It would be a large outdoor space, some of it even in the woods, for the dog to enjoy.

Eventually everybody settled down and Julia asked, "So William, what about a name? I think he's going to be pretty big. Maybe a big strong name, like Mack, perhaps?"

Many potential puppy names were suggested, Katie thought of Prince, like Prince Charming, Chelsea liked Bear. The family all agreed on a name William Jr. thought up – Moose.

Suddenly, at one point, William jumped up and lifted Moose into the air. He hurried out the front door, making it to the grass just in time for the dog to urinate. When William came back in, he explained that there is a certain way the dog sniffs around that is a clue he needs to go out. They would need to teach Moose to tell them though, maybe with a bark or a scratch at the door. William looked at Julia with his "I'm sorry" face and said, "There may be a few mistakes until we all get it worked out."

Julia stood up and walked over to her husband. She put her arms around his neck and looked into his gorgeous brown eyes and said, "William Henry Murdoch, I love you. And fairly soon, I think I'm going to love Moose too." She leaned in close, placing her lips at his ear and said softly, "And I promise to be patient."

William wrapped his arms around her and said, "Good," and then gave her a quick kiss.

"Oh," she remembered she wanted to say, "No couch – And no beds." William agreed, and they made sure the children knew to take Moose off of the couch or the bed if they saw him up on them.

"Oh yes, also, Moose will need a bath every two weeks – or if he gets particularly dirty before that," she insisted. William nodded, but William Jr. jumped up to volunteer to give the baths. His mother warned him that part of the chore was washing the tub afterwards too. They boy frowned, and everyone laughed.

Eloise came in with the groceries for their Sunday dinner. All gave out a sigh of relief when they saw her put the bag of groceries down and rush over excitedly to see the new puppy. Fortunately, she loved dogs. Now all they had left to worry about was Claire-Marie.

A while later, with the house pumped full of enticing smells emanating from the kitchen, the family returned the furniture to its correct positions and sat together catching their breath after much rambunctious play, William Jr. on the floor with Moose, Katie in Julia's lap, and Chelsea in William's. Eloise was making William's favorite dish, Beef stroganoff, and for desert there was pie. William suggested that they take Moose out for a quick walk and then feed him before they sat down to dinner. Everyone wanted to go along.

It was not long after the family returned from walking their new puppy that the doorbell rang. Having not yet sat down to eat, everyone went to the door to see who it was.

Lo and behold, standing before them, adorned with crutches and a bouquet of flower, was Harry Murdoch. Pulling the wrinkled-up note he had removed from the pigeon's foot out of his shirt pocket, he said, "I uh, had an invite for Sunday dinner." William was so surprised by the unexpected visit that Moose nearly got away with barreling past him and out the door before William pushed his leg against the pup, pinning him against the doorframe and then reaching down to take him by the collar.

In William's mind there was a battle of thoughts, each attached to an emotion that was swirling away creating agita in his gut – in his heart. Words would not come

"So ya got yourself a pup!" Harry declared. "He's gonna be a big one too!" he added.

Clearing his throat, William finally spoke, "Yes … Yes."

Julia stepped forward to stand behind William and open the door wider. "I'm surprised you got back to Toronto so quickly, um, with such a severe injury, Harry. How does it feel?" she asked.

The children sensed the awkwardness felt by the adults. They remembered the last time their grandfather had been here – how upset their father had gotten and the big fight their mother and father had had. They were still, silent, waiting for a clue. The mood had a walking-on-eggshells feel to it.

Julia's question, her presence behind him, helped ground him. The ringing and spinning in William's head slowed to a halt, and he took a deep breath. "Children," he asked for their attention… All held their breath. "I don't think you know that your grandfather saved your mother's and my lives yesterday. He's quite a hero," he explained, with a bit of a forced smile. William leaned down to pick up Moose and handed him to William Jr. "Now can you three see to it that Moose gets comfortably tucked into his crate while we help your grandfather in?" he asked.

Like popcorn popping, they hopped into action. "Yes Daddy" Katie said first. Their enthusiastic chatter revealed their excitement as they headed for the parlor with the dog.

"Here Harry, let me take those lovely flowers," Julia said reaching out for the bouquet. He handed them over and tucked the invitation back into his pocket. William offered a hand to his elbow as he hopped up the last step to finally cross the threshold into the house.

As the three of them crossed through the kitchen to get to the dining room, Harry praised Eloise on her cooking. And then, being quite the flirt, he complimented her beauty as well.

Eloise, too, remembered the last time Mr. Murdoch had visited, and she was thrown by his current flirtations, though there had been subtle similar, comments last time as well. She stared at the man slightly dumbfounded before Julia drew everyone's attention, saying Harry would probably really love tonight's dinner, informing him that it was Beef stroganoff. They all settled in at the dinner table, working for the first few moments to "ignore," according to William's instructions, Moose's whining. Fortunately it did not take long for the puppy to settle down. Julia noticed right away that Eloise had served her a glass of wine. She hoped no one noticed that she got up and took it into the kitchen, but, not surprisingly, her detective husband caught her eye as she went by.

Whispering to Eloise, she said, "Eloise, I would like to have _**no alcohol served**_ whenever William's father is here." She placed the glass down on the counter and added, "But, I must say, I did so want some wine. Thank you for the thought. It would have been delightful." After she left, Eloise decided to drink the glass herself – not wanting it to go to waste.

The mood lightened considerably over dinner. Harry told them that he had sold his pigeon carrier business. He explained that it would only work if there was a war right here in Canada, because the pigeons only travel back-and-forth between places they are trained to return to. Describing the people who bought him out he said, "Well, it was a woman who contacted me. She's some big-shot from Russia. A duchess or somethin…"

William and Julia shared a look. Quickly, Julia swallowed and asked, "Harry, was she a countess?"

"Oh yeah," he declared, "That's it. Countess Foster I think it was."

Nodding her head, Julia looked back to William and said, "Countess Fausta." He nodded as well. "What would she want with a pigeon couriers?" Julia asked.

William swallowed and replied, "Perhaps she was more involved in this whole weapons situation than we thought… The pigeons are most useful when trying to avoid having your messages detected, like correspondences about battle plans…" William looked to Harry and asked, "Did she say anything about what she intended to use the pigeons for?"

"They was in a big rush to get the whole kit-and-caboodle loaded up on some ship to Russia. There was some men with her. Tell ya the truth, she didn't seem to be in charge. There was another man. He seemed to be the boss," Harry explained.

"What time was this? Was it today or yesterday?" William asked, seeming quite excited.

"Well, she was waitin for me when I got home Saturday night, and they came to take everything near six o'clock this mornin. They paid me cash too. All done quick," he answered.

William left the table in a hurry. He called the stationhouse and sent some constables to the docks to see if there was a ship loading up cargo at Brogan's factory. Then he went around to the side of the house to see if the Inspector was in, and informed him of the possibility that there may be a deal going down with Russia for whatever weapons remained at the factory after the fire. The inspector said he would take care of it and headed down to the stationhouse. William went back to join his family, just in time for dessert.

Julia asked Harry, "So what do you intend do with the money?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, finished with pie and happy. "Well, I paid up all my rent – clear through for the next six months," he said. He took a deep breath and added, "But now I needs to come up with some more money for my plan…I got an idea that's sure to make a whole lotta money." William rolled his eyes at Julia. She took a deep breath and sent him a look requesting for him to be patient, and at least be willing to hear the man out. "Well," Harry started, leaning forward and darting his eyes from person to person to be sure to draw everyone in, "You know how easy it is to burn your toast…"

The whole Murdoch family turned their eyes to gaze upon Julia. Insulted, mouth agape with shock, she demanded, "What!? Why are you all looking at me?"

William Jr. was the first to call her out. "Mom – You always burn the toast!" he declared.

"I do not," she replied.

William chuckled and all eyes turned to him. Julia's look offered a warning, prompting him to laugh even harder. "Julia…" he said. She tucked her chin down and glared up at him. He shook his head and through laughter said, "Just yesterday…Don't you remember?"

She couldn't really deny it. "So what's your idea Harry – for making better toast?" she asked, hoping to drop the whole subject, but failing, as the rest of the family fell into giggles. She tossed her napkin at William, prompting him to throw his hands up in the air and duck in self-defense, but still taking the blow. Such play warmed their hearts so – neither could hold back their smile.

Harry waited for the laughing to die down and then explained, "Well, it will be run on electricity. It's a box, with slots for the toast, but under the slots is a floor and it has springs under it. You push a lever to lower the bread and inside the electricity causes a metal grid around the slots to get hot – toasting the bread. There's a certain amount of time goes by till the floor pops up, bringing the toast back up to where you can pick it up, and turning off the heat – No burned toast, even if you walk away. I'm gonna call it a "pop-up toaster."

William nodded, now finished with his pie as well, and said, "That actually sounds like a pretty good idea. You know you should patent it," he said looking to Julia to see if she remembered, "There are people out there – like Thomas Edison, who take other people's ideas and patent them, so the original creator can't even make their own inventions."

Harry appeared to be considering the advice. "Well, I gotta get the money first, for machines and stuff," he thought out loud.

William and Julia decided to call a family meeting to decide whether or not to give Harry the money that had been refunded from their Club membership. The parents warned their children the consequences, it may mean no swimming lessons for a while, and not as much horseback riding… Katie said she would rather become bicyclist anyway (probably thinking of the O'Keefe boys and hoping to cycle with them). Chelsea, predictably, as she always wanted to do whatever her older sister wanted to do, said she wanted to be a bicyclist too.

Julia pulled her littlest daughter into her lap and said, "When you are a little older, my little one, you will find something _**you**_ love, not just because it is something Katie loves. You'll see."

"So, we are all in agreement then … We give the money to Grandpa?" William said. In response, joyful, insistent, head-nodding followed. William looked at Julia and said, "It's worth it I think – to …" unable to hold back his smirk he finished, his voice pushing through his laughter, "save the toast." Julia feigned insult, and William sat down next to her on the couch and said close to her ear, "I'm sorry, I love your toast. I love anything you make for me… anything," and then he took her chin in his hand and kissed her cheek. Turning her to face to him, he kissed her lips and then repeated, "Anything." Her smile announced that she had forgiven his relentless teasing.

They called Harry into the parlor to give him the good news. He sat with them in parlor for a while talking and sharing stories. After a time, William took Moose out for a quick walk and when he returned, Harry was on his way out. They stood on the porch and talked. Without saying it directly, Harry thanked his son for giving him a second chance. He made promises – promises that William refused to let himself wholeheartedly believe. He would never drink if the children were around, and he had every intention to make good on the money and pay it back.

William realized that he had to choose whether or not to let Harry into their lives, _**as he was**_ – rather than as William had _**always wished he would be**_. He had accepted the fact that his father was not, and never would, be the father he'd wished for as a young boy. He only hoped that now – now that he was a father himself – that _**he**_ could be the father he had always wished his father had been. He helped his father get down the steps and re-set on his crutches, and said goodnight. The last thing Harry said to him was that he had always regretted giving Duke away – he was glad to see that his son finally had himself a dog again. William surprised himself, having to work to hold back tears.

It was getting dark, and as William walked back up the steps to go back into the house, the warm glow from the parlor lights offered to embrace him. He paused to kneel down next to Moose and whispered to the dog, "Welcome home boy." Once inside, he released the leash and the dog charged into the room to smother each and every family member with greeting kisses.

Tonight their bedtime stories were family stories instead of Dr. Fu Manchu. Julia pulled Katie on to her lap and said, "You know, when I first came to work in the morgue at stationhouse #4, your Daddy had a reputation… People called him "the bicycle detective. I think you may follow in his footsteps and be a great bicyclist."

"Daddy, did Mommy have a repetition before you met her?" Chelsea asked, as she climbed up into his lap, figuring she wanted some parental attention too.

William Jr. corrected her pronunciation of "reputation," the boy seeming quite content to let his sisters enjoy their parents' laps while he sat with Moose. But, he was also quite interested in the traditional love stories that their parents sometimes shared, and asked his father, "Did people tell you about Mom before you met her?"

William explained that all he had been told was that their mother was a doctor, and that she was a woman. But he figured that she had to be an outstanding woman to have accomplished such a thing as to have become a doctor – she had to be very smart, and she had to be very strong, and brave, and she probably was really stubborn, and confident too. He shared, "Somewhere from deep inside of me, I heard a voice I hadn't heard for a very long time whisper, 'Perhaps she's the one.' But I wouldn't let myself really think it – so I wouldn't be disappointed."

"Did you know she was the one when you met her Dad?" William Jr. asked.

William's eyes twinkled and he smiled. If Julia wasn't already head-over-heels in love with the man, she would have fallen into his gravitational field right then. "I did," he answered, looking at her, melting her with his chocolate eyes. William adjusted his position and tucked some of Chelsea's hair behind her ear and added, "Although, I hadn't really recognized that she was from an upper-class upbringing at first, and when I realized she was, well… I struggled with thoughts of not being acceptable to her or worthy of her." He looked at Julia and wrinkled a corner of his face, admitting his doubt, at least at the time.

Katie asked, "Were you poor Daddy?"

Julia answered, "No, your Daddy wasn't poor honey – but I believe his family had been when he was a young boy. By the time I met your Daddy he had a good job, as a detective…And he had a pension… he just wasn't wealthy, like I was, and like my family was."

"So Aunt Ruby is rich too?" Chelsea asked.

"Mm-hmm," William answered.

"How about Uncle Jasper?" William Jr. asked.

"Not rich," William answered as he stood up, lifting Chelsea with him. "Now, I do believe it's time for bed." As expected there were multiple complaints lodged, but relatively soon the children were tucked into bed.

William and Julia headed back downstairs together. She wanted her glass of wine. Remembering he had had a glass of wine with her earlier in the day, during their picnic in the backyard, she asked him if he wanted a glass too. He declined. He sat on the couch waiting for her, replaying what Harry had said about regretting giving away his dog so many years ago. Julia came and sat next to him on the couch and he shared his thoughts with her. "Well, at least that's something," she said. She remembered that she had Rebecca's record about being like a motherless child – the one she had wanted to share with William. She put it on the Victrola. After Julia sat back down on the couch, she brought William's head down to lie in her lap and she stroked and played with his hair while they listened to the song. A Negro spiritualist song, the man's deep, mourning voice slowly sang the heartbreaking words:

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child  
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child  
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child  
A long ways from home  
A long ways from home …

Julia entertained her thoughts as she cared for William. Listening to the sad song, she found the grief of it seeped into her soul as well, for she too, had lost her mother as a child. Although she was older than William was, the pain still seemed to have been nearly more than she could bear at the time. Her father stayed with her, and with his being a doctor, he was of more assistance to her at stressful times, like when she began menstruating, than another man likely would have been. And yet, Julia knew the absence of her mother as she entered the world of womanhood had had important consequences in her life. She sighed, thinking of Katie and Chelsea, being orphaned when they were only four and two years old. They knew the pain the man sang about in this song. Even William Jr. had felt it, or at least something similar to it, when she had gone away to prison for what he believed would likely be two years. " _Interesting_ ," she thought, " _That he was the one to fall apart in her arms when she returned home that night, wholly devastated by his loss of her."_

When the record finished, she asked if he wanted to hear it again. He nodded, sitting up to let her get up from the couch. He leaned his head down against the back of the couch and caught her eyes. He looked so sorrowful, and yet, he also seemed peaceful. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Her heart tugged, she loved him so. When she returned, he rested his head in her lap again, seeking her soothing, empathic touch once more. This time, when the record was finished, he thanked her. He got up and put the record away. He handed her the medical journal she had last been reading and took his science journal to his chair. They read together for a little while.

At one point Julia noticed out of the corner of her eye, that William was not reading, but rather, he was watching Moose slumbering on the floor next to his chair.

Joy circled in his heart; he marveled at the fantastic feeling of it as he felt it glowing with love for the puppy. He was so very happy. He looked up to notice Julia watching him. With a huge smile on his face, he bounced in his seat and said to her gleefully, "I have a dog!"

"Yes," she replied calmly, but inside her heart was on fire. She couldn't be more pleased.

Soon after, they took Moose out for his last walk that night, and then tucked him into his crate. His whining had stopped by the time they had turned off all of the lights and gotten up the stairs. He was probably a very tired puppy after such an exciting day.

Once the bedroom door closed, William whispered, "Finally, I have been waiting for this moment all day. I want to make love to my beautiful wife," as he took her in his arms.

Julia responded, "Well, that is convenient, because all day I have wanted my handsome husband to make love to me." She started to loosen his tie.

William was trying to slow himself down, to think a bit more like _Ishinpō_. He needed to turn her around to unbutton her dress, " _Take your time, William,_ " he coached himself.

Julia felt herself becoming quite aroused. She thought about telling him about the tattered and torn blue dress. "William," she started, "I, um…" She looked up into his eyes, " _Oh how I love those eyes …"_ she thought, as she felt pulled into them. "You know, William, in all of my days on Earth, I have never seen anything as beautiful as your eyes." She could see it immediately, his blushing, endearing her to him even more.

Complaining about her tendency to embarrass him so, he said, "Julia…"

She cut him off, "Really, it's true… And …I'm so glad that William Jr. inherited those beautiful, warm, chocolaty eyes of yours."

William sighed and changed the subject, "What were you going to say?" he asked. He twirled one of her stray curls between his fingers admiringly.

Julia looked down at her hands on his tie, re-orienting herself. "Oh yes … I…Well, it is pretty _**spicy**_ …" She coyly tilted her head and glanced up at him. She returned her attention to undressing him, now unbuttoning the top button on his shirt, and said, "I was thinking that I could change into that dress, the, "wild," blue one, that was torn up so badly at the lake-house. I didn't throw it out after all…Um, it seemed…" She looked up into his eyes once more, feeling her womb tighten and flip with desire for him, and finished, "It seemed like you quite liked it."

William had to clear his throat, he was feeling lustful urges remembering the way she looked in the ragged dress, and said with a dry, sultry voice, "I quite like spicy."

Answering, more to herself than to him, she replied, "Who would have thought."

Their eyes met and the magnetic pull caught them. Weak knees and lost breath abound in the magically reversed centrifugal force the spiraled around them and between them and through them. Julia broke off the intoxicating look first, her eyes dropping down to his shirt buttons once more. She noticed that her need for him throbbed even more strongly than usual. " _Perhaps because we didn't make love this morning,_ " she thought.

"William," she said, "I was uh, I was disappointed when I woke up this morning and you were gone." His shirt was nearly completely unbuttoned and his bare skin tempted her so. She laid her hands on him. His soft skin, his bulky muscles, felt magnificent. His nipples hardened as her fingers rustled over them.

William's head surged into a dizzying spin with her touch. " _Oh the deliciousness of it,_ " he thought, finding the words spun away before he could use their memory to connect to another thought.

"I was so … hungry for you. I very much wanted to, um," she said, looking up to his face.

With a slight blush quickly covering his skin, William strained to find his voice, to find words to explain. "I uh, well this morning I um, I would not have been able … Um, What I mean is it would have taken me a little time until…I could"

" _Oh, yes! Of course,_ " Julia realized, " _He needed to put his pajamas in the laundry basket. He had a dream and …_ " A devilish smile grew on Julia's face and she said, "I see. Your dirty pajamas…" Inside she giggled and melted with love for him as he seemed to _both_ squirm with discomfort, knowing she had figured out what happened, _and,_ exhale, feeling so relieved knowing he wouldn't have to explain it. Julia cleared her throat and added, "I washed them … with the ripped dress."

William smiled and gave her a small bow. "It was the dress that caused the pajamas," he confided. Her satisfactory giggle kindled his heart and roused his groin. He loved her so.

He leaned into her, his hot breath announcing his impatience. Julia reacted, growing weak. The tempo surged – _Ishinpō_ flying out the window, and he forcefully pulled her close and captured her lips in a demanding kiss. Breaking off the kiss, he turned her around and hurriedly tore at the buttons on the back of her dress. He wanted her – now. Julia pulled her bloomers down, dragging her stockings with them, and stepped out of the pile of clothing at her feet. Enough buttons unfastened, he lifted the dress up over her head and threw it to the floor. His fingers demandingly pulled at the strings on her corset, creating a rhythmically whooshing sound with the rushed beat.

She lifted her arms up over head, reaching back to find his face as he worked. She slid her fingers behind his head and pulled his mouth down into her neck, being devastated by the nibbles and insistent hold he took of her. " _William_ ," his name swam around and around in her head.

The corset hit the floor and William enclosed her in his arms from behind. She felt his severe want for her against her buttocks through his trousers. It weakened her, and she dropped downwards, relying on his strong arms to hold her weight. An agonizingly demanding moan escaped her throat as he cupped her breasts through her satiny undergarment and pushed his pelvis more tightly against her. She felt his mouth, his teeth, his tongue, drink in her earlobe, then her neck again. William's wedding ring caught on her swollen nipple, drawing a gasp from her. He chuckled into her neck, having intentionally brought about the sensation. Then, his breath rumbled over her ear as his hand pressed in against her, hard and rough, and slid down her body, stalling when his fingers encountered and tangled in her hair.

"Julia," his hot voice whispered in her ear.

She was completely defenseless against him. His fingers slid inside of her. " _Oh my God_ ," she thought, feeling as she might faint away. Her desire flamed. "William, please," she begged. Suddenly gravity soared. He spun her around and she flung her arms around his neck to try to steady her world as she ended up facing him again. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips, to be carried over to the vanity. Hurriedly he placed her buttocks down on the firm, cold surface. Stepping back to unbutton his trousers, his eyes held hers. His jaw was tight and his eyes pierced into her soul. Helpless, her breath burst out of her, heaving her chest, tempting his minimal resolve. " _He's going to take me… Right here…Right now_ ," her mind raced. She waited defenseless, unguarded, for him to breach her.

As he stepped into her, she leaned backwards, and reached up to him with her legs, encapsulating him with them, pulling his hips closer to her. His pants hit the floor. And he knocked, while his hands took a demanding, fierce hold of her hips. She gasped. Locked in, unable to move in his overpowering grasp, he ruptured her. Sliding in deeper, becoming surrounded by her yielding, lusciousness, William moaned, driving Julia wild. Her moan caught up to his in the air, their echoes swirling and smoldering around them. Tears flowed down her cheeks. The force, the need, the power, was so overwhelming. "William," he heard her at his ear, "William, William, William," she whispered breathily.

" _Oh my God this woman is delicious_ ," he thought as he thrust into her with all he had. "Absolutely delicious," his raspy voice steamed into her ear, was sucked into her brain. He felt her start to go; her breath caught; her head dropped back as she gave way to him. His surge nearly floored her. A grunt pierced the air, the final moment before ecstasy took him. "Julia," he beckoned as his eruption swept her away to fall over the edge with him.

Finished, his body grew heavier against her, and she heard his breath, felt it cover her, to be followed by his kisses. "I love you Julia," his winded voice said. His heart pounded against her chest.

"Yes," she replied and swallowed, just moments before she collapsed into spent, exhausted, grateful, joyful tears.

He lifted her up off of the vanity, her arms and legs still wrapped around him, and carried her to the bed. "Shh," he whispered in her ear, followed by a gentle kiss. Tenderly he brought them down together on the mattress. He kissed her face, her neck, tasting her tears, feeling them glide across his tongue. He held her tightly, waiting for her to push against him, knowing that, then, he would roll them over for her to rest her head on his chest – all in good time.

Soon, pillow talk came. "You never gave me a chance to put on the dress," she complained, receiving a chuckle from him as he recognized the whirlwind that had overcome him.

"Sorry," he replied.

"Well, we'll have it for another time then," she answered.

"I look forward to that," he declared.

"Now … about this dream…" she teased as she wiggled against him in an effort to burrow closer.

William's mind began to race, for he knew his wife – and she would be relentless about finding out the contents of his dream, and worse, she would then try to recreate it as much as possible in real-life. His only saving grace was that they had been kicked out of the Club, so she couldn't corral him into making love to her in the coatroom there. But, knowing Julia, any old coatroom would do…

"You said I was wearing the torn dress…" she pushed.

He decided he would tell her some of the details and hope she didn't sense there was more. "It was notably shorter in the dream than it had been in real-life." He paused to see if she had a comment.

"And…" she asked.

William swallowed and pressed on, "And, shall we say, the dress was _**all**_ you had on." William swallowed again, remembering the devastating thrill he experienced in the dream when he felt the bare skin of her buttocks during his explorations. Still not recovered from having just made love to her, he was surprised to feel the flip and twitch in his groin as he thought of the memory of finding her wet, warm folds, unguarded, completely available to him.

"Oh, I see … Quite _**spicy**_ indeed, detective. It sounds wonderful," she said as she slid her leg over him to lie on top of him. She then pulled her legs up and sat, straddling him like a horse. "I think I may need to take a scissors to the dress then," she added. "Perhaps tomorrow night?" she asked, "Shall we make it a date?"

Not wanting to appear to be too excited, William just nodded and said, "Good," the dryness in his voice betraying the truth of his state.

Satisfied, Julia kissed him. She climbed off of him and they prepared for bed.

Lights out, they lie facing each other in the dark, sharing William's pillow. Julia reminded him of their discussions many years ago, when he teased her that he wanted many, many children – a really big family, and she finally asked him how many children he really wanted, and he replied…

William interrupted, remembering the same conversation, "One more than you agreed to."

"Hmm," she replied, finding his cheek in the dark, sliding her nails through his hair. "And, if I remember correctly William, I agreed to us having _**two**_ children… Isn't it interesting, that here we are today, with _**one more child than two**_ , hmm?"

"Mm," he answered, sleep rocking him temptingly.

"Do you remember what you said after that?" she asked.

He did, but he was falling asleep. He decided to wait for her to answer, and yet, a smile still slid on his face, unseen in the darkness, but felt as her fingers continued to trace and love his face.

Julia's voice floated in the air, "You added yet another demand – ' _ **and a dog**_ ,' you said, all proud of yourself for pushing for even more…" He felt her kiss his cheek and then say, "But I got the last word, at least I thought so. 'And if I want a _**cat**_ ,' I had said," Julia added with a little giggle.

William pushed himself to stay awake, remembering his last words to her back then – his joke. Sleepily his voice crawled out of the space between them, "I hoped that the _**dog would get along with the cat**_." He was too tired to laugh, but the last thing he heard before he surrendered to sleep was the music of her giggle.

"Don't worry William, I never really wanted a cat," she whispered. Knowing he was asleep, freed from the burden of having to reply, she sent a message to chase after him, down into the soft swinging of the black tunnel of sleep, "My God, I love you William Henry Murdoch, with all of my heart, and all of my soul, and every cell, and every atom in my body. I am yours, completely, my Prince Charming, my Greek God. You are the one, always were the one, always will be the one, for me, forever and ever." She kissed the ear she whispered into and slid down to rest her face against his skin between the soft fabric of his pajama collars, moaning in her mind with the reassurance of his scent. She slid her thigh up over his hips and tucked her arm in between his arm and his torso, and with his breath rocking her, she drifted away as well.

 _ **William and Julia had been through tumultuous storms, teeming rain. And sometimes, although it is rare, it rains cats and dogs, as it just had done for them over the past few weeks. Such storms never last for long. Afterwards, the world cleansed, it brightens and grows with the kiss of sunlight once more. Love blossoms stronger, more vivid, and more resilient – often even better than it had been before.**_

 _ **(One more chapter – stay tuned)**_


	18. Chapter 18

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 17: Monday, August 18, 1913

Having been dropped by their three children like hot potatoes at the mere mention of taking the puppy out of his crate for a quick walk, Julia slid closer to her husband and, with the fire re-kindled in her eyes, said, "Perhaps we have time after all?" Not giving him a chance to reply, she slid her leg over him, to sit atop of him as if she were riding an equine.

Briefly, his eyes darted to the still-open bedroom door and he entertained the concern that one of the children might come traipsing back in while they were in the middle of making love. However, his hands rushed to gather up the bottom of Julia's nightgown, and then quickly guide it over her head. "It will have to be very quick, like a sudden burst of rain – like a microburst," he added.

"Mm," she agreed. Knowing there would be no time to remove his pajama top, her fingers tugged at the string of his pajama bottoms, while his hands slid up over her newly-naked belly and rib cage to join his eyes in devouring her breasts. She lifted up onto her knees to enable the lowering of his bottoms, feeling her womb surge with lust as she felt the pajamas catch on his arousal. Air blasted out of her nostrils with the thought – he was ready. Her eyes dropped to see the sight of him. "You are beautiful, William," she declared with a husky whisper. She felt his hands slide down her sides and take a firm hold of her hips.

"Have a seat," he suggested.

"Such a gentleman, offering a lady a seat," she replied slyly.

When she tilted forward, using her hand to line up his entry, her breasts jiggled enticingly above him. Seeing them bouncing and jumbling about, feeling her fingers tightly wrap around him, he nearly came undone. Losing control, his hips thrust up towards her and his throat released a quiet moan.

"William!" she exclaimed, "After I just called you a gentleman." Unable to laugh at her own joke, for the look on his face caught her breath – stunned her; his expression was so serious, so intense, so focused – with his jaw locked and his eyes imposing, she felt her insides melt and swirl. " _Oh my God_ ," she thought as her brain seemed to spiral away. She weakened, as his hands roughly gripped her hips and he urgently pulled her down over him - hard, then around him, as she felt the excruciating pleasure of his penetration. "Oh, William," she cried, "Oh my God, William." She moaned with his first thrust, "You feel so good."

As he powered up into her, deeper and deeper, Julia leaned forward and joined his rhythm. Already, William sensed the closeness of what he wanted, the dizziness of the demand driving him wild with the need to get further inside of her. She was just out of reach. Passionately, he sat up to take her into his arms. Having seized her, he flipped them over, his weight now pinning her to the mattress. Her breath was stolen with a gasp, and he pounded into her with all of his might.

" _William. Oh my God William, please…_ " the words swam around and around in the chasm of her head.

" _Just a little more_ ," he thought. " _There! Right there!"_ the awareness drove him forward. With everything he had he ploughed fiercely into her. Her tearful voice surged into his ear, "William! Oh please, William," luring him over the threshold into ecstasy. A, deep, grumbling moan flooded out of him as every cell in his body was enveloped in heavenly, warm bliss. He pumped, long and deep, milking every drop out of the delicious feeling, only to be lusciously drained of every ounce of strength as Julia tilted her head back while her whole body snaked in waves beneath him and he heard her lustful epiphany, "Mmm," and it seared into his brain, as she rippled and clamped around him, sucking him in to her core.

Almost immediately, he felt her body begin to shake with sobs. She held on to him tightly, as if she would never ever let him go, as her breaths strained for air in between her sobs against his cheek. "Stay with me William," she begged into his ear.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," he whispered back to her tenderly. "You are the love of my life, Julia," he softly added, before he nudged his fingers into her curls to hold her head as he kissed away some tears.

Still crying and out of breath, she joked, "So, you call _**that**_ a _**micro**_ burst, William … much more like a _**MACRO**_ burst, I'd say."

"Mm," she heard his lovely voice rumble over her ear, the sound seeping down into her, warming her heart, before he nipped and sucked on her neck.

"My God I love you," she added.

"And I you," he replied.

Her tears now subsided, Julia pushed against William's shoulder and he rolled over onto his back, bringing her along for the ride. She rested her head on his chest, basking in the joy of hearing his pounding heart recover its slower beat. His fingers caressed her hair, liberating her face of the locks, both of them enjoying the sensations as the tips of his fingers slid across her ear. Julia noted, "Perhaps having a dog will end up giving us _**more**_ time for our amorous antics, hmm?"

"Mm, a pleasant surprise," he answered, as he brought his lips down to kiss her forehead.

The downstairs front door closed with a bang and the children's excited voices filled the air. Within seconds, the thunderous footsteps rapped on the staircase. With William's pajama bottoms already pulled back up, and knowing Julia was looking for her nightgown, William quickly exited the bed and lifted her nightgown off of the floor. For the briefest moment, he teased her, pulling it away from her reach as the beating of the children's footsteps grew louder. She sat back on her heels on the mattress and gave him a stern look, winning her prize, prompting him to hand over her gown. She had just pulled it down over her bare body when the first child, William Jr. rushed in.

"Dad," he reported excitedly, "Moose urinated and defecated – and we put the feces in the garbage pail. And Dad, he fetched a stick!" Julia reflected on the way their son spoke of such biological processes - "He is definitely the offspring of a doctor," she thought proudly.

"William Jr.!" Katie's voice hollered, "Come see. Moose is climbing up the stairs. He's so cute!"

Both Williams rushed to see; Julia jumped out of bed and hurried behind them. The gangly puppy would gingerly place one of his gigantic paws up on a step, and hold it there, trying to build-up his nerve to push forward and climb. He would then bobble up a few steps, legs splaying this way and that, before he would pause again and go through the process once more. Each attempt rendered more steps in each bound. Soon he had made it to the top and he proudly trotted right past everyone directly into the parents' bedroom and picked up one of William's shoes.

"Oh no you don't!" the Alpha male of the family declared. Giggles exploded throughout the room as the puppy trotted into a corner and plopped down happily to focus on chewing his treasure. Regaining his composure, William walked over to the little dog. He explained that what Moose was doing was completely normal behavior for a young pup, and yes, it was also really cute and funny, but, if they wanted a well-trained dog, it would need to be dealt with properly. "William Jr.," he commanded, "Hurry and get me one of Moose's toys."

William took a deep breath, working to center himself and remain calm. He felt his blood surge, however, as he noticed that the damage done to his shoe was already quite significant. He squatted down in front of the dog and addressed him by name, using a firm, comfortable, confident tone. Moose had stopped chewing on the shoe, and was looking at William as William spoke to him. Julia imagined that she could see the wheels in the puppy's head turning. Hearing William Jr. running up the stairs with the toy, William reached down and reclaimed the shoe. As soon as he did so, the puppy's eyes followed the shoe as he pulled it away. William called his name, demanding the puppy's attention, which he immediately received. He praised the dog, for giving him, rather than the shoe, his attention. Holding his hand out to receive the toy from William Jr., William quickly gave the puppy his toy as he explained that the dog will learn to play with _**HIS**_ toys if we consistently replace the " _ **wrong**_ " toys with the right ones. William then rubbed and played with the young dog for a few moments before he stood up and frowned, as he observed his dilapidated shoe, eliciting abundant laughter.

He looked at Julia, who tried to curb her chuckles, and said, "Patience … remember?"

"Mm," he replied.

Claire-Marie arrived and happily accepted the puppy as one of her new charges, much to William and Julia's relief. As they sat at the table eating breakfast, William further educated the family in dog-training. "Do not – I mean it, Do not, feed Moose while you are sitting at the table. He will always eat after us. He needs to know his place," he taught. Moose repeatedly placed his paws on one person or another to get closer to the delicious smelling food. Each person had learned to calmly reach down and push the dog's front feet back down on the floor. They did a good job of ignoring him, and soon Moose went and lay down, accepting his fate.

Eloise called Chelsea over to her at the stove. Julia's mother's-ear listened in as Eloise nonchalantly asked Chelsea, "Darling, would you like some bacon with your eggs this morning?" The older woman's instincts were quite good, Julia thought. If she had asked this publicly, Chelsea would have been more inclined to say no in order to save face, to appear to be sticking to her principles, but, as it turned out, Chelsea had gotten over her reaction to seeing the deer being butchered. She told Eloise yes, she did want some bacon. Now Julia just hoped nobody teased Chelsea about her dietary reversal. Fortunately, accept for William, it seemed no one else even noticed.

"How is Berry Bear's arm?" Julia asked her youngest daughter.

Chelsea's legs kicked away, dangling off the chair as she answered, biting off a piece of bacon, "Good."

Katie asked if their Mommy thought his sling could come off now, and she offered to help her younger sister with the task, after her mother replied yes.

William cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention and said, "I am calling the contractor today. Hopefully he can start right away on building the fence for Moose's pen, and making the door in the laundry room so we can let him in and out. Should we order the lumber for the tree-house too?" The question incited cheers from the children. Julia made them promise that they would not try to carry Moose up into the tree, hopefully avoiding at least one possible tree-house disaster – she held her tongue, but she was worried for the children's safety.

As she and William headed for the door to go off to work, he on his bicycle while she would take a cab, he wrapped an arm around her and said, "Julia, having a tree-house to play in is like a dream come true for them, hmm? They will be alright…" He stopped her and queried her with his eyes. His higher comfort with risk-taking, particularly when it involved their children, was an issue they had struggled with as a couple since the day William Jr. was born. William was worried that the tree-house might become a problem between them.

Julia slid her arms up around his neck and replied, "I'm working on containing my fears about it. I agree that we should build it for them William. Actually, I think the tree-house is an absolutely wonderful idea, and I think our children have the very best Daddy in the whole wide world," she added, taking him in a kiss.

There was a knock at the door, interrupting them, causing them to break-off the kiss.

"Inspector," Julia called out as she opened the door. Seeing Inspector Brackenreid standing at the door reminded them that he and Margaret had moved in.

"I thought we might share a cab," he said, leaning over to see behind her as the children and, what was that – a puppy? – crowded up in the background.

William prompted his children to say good morning, which they did excitedly. "Where is Mrs. Brackenweed?" Chelsea asked, missing her.

The Inspector leaned down to better address the child and said, "She is using that amazing invention of your father's – the dishwashing cupboard I believe it is called, to clean up our apartment."

"Has she had a chance to use the laundry cupboard yet?" Julia asked. "She will love it!" she added. (Julia subconsciously placed her hand over her bag where she had stuffed the ripped-up blue dress and an old soft corset she intended to use to spice the dress up even more. She smiled to herself remembering when William had said, in response to her informing him she had washed the garments together, " _It was the dress that caused the pajamas"_ ).

The Inspector stood back up and answered, "Not yet, but she has asked me to ask you, Murdoch, if you would make us these machines for our own house?"

"Glad to Inspector," William replied, pride swelling in his chest. "Now, we have to get going or we'll be late," William announced as he squatted down to give his children a hug good-bye. He instructed Claire-Marie to call him if she had any questions or problems with Moose and they headed off.

Once the door closed behind them, the two men couldn't help but shift gears mentally, thinking about the case. Julia was greatly interested too, as the Inspector answered William's question about the left-over weapons in Brogan's factory and the boat from Russia. He told them that when the constables had gotten there, the place was already cleaned out. He had notified the Navy, but had received no word of them capturing the Russian boat. It seemed they had gotten away.

They separated and William rode his bike to work, while the Inspector and Julia shared a cab. The Inspector seemed to be in a remarkably good mood. Julia even noticed he was humming. "You seem quite happy today, Inspector," she noted.

"That I am," he cheerily replied. "Margaret and I are very happy in the home you have been so generous with doctor," he explained. " _It feels like we're on our honeymoon again,_ " he thought, but kept to himself. He did, however, take the opportunity to thank Julia for sharing her home with them. He also confided in her his utter happiness at seeing how wonderfully she and his detective's life together had turned out. He acknowledged the great deal of struggle he knew she and Murdoch had been through, and seemed to agree with her that it all seemed worth it in the end. He reminded her that it was he who had walked her down the aisle, and it was him who had stopped them from running off before taking their vows. His authentic care for her, and for William, touched her.

Having arrived at work before William, Julia headed over to the morgue. She hoped being a little early this morning would allow time for her to at least start her alterations on the "spicy" dress. She had every intention of wearing it tonight. Having to flick the light switch on after she opened the door, she knew she had arrived before Miss James.

The Inspector was greeted at the door by Mr. Meyers, some of his newfound bliss dropping to the wayside with the sight of the man. Unavoidably, his eyes rolled up to the heavens as he tried to deal with the stress he believed had only just begun for the day. "Mr. Meyers … You're here early," he greeted.

"Yes Inspector," he replied, then taking a puff on his cigar. "I expected you to be with Murdoch. I heard you and your wife were to be guests at his house until your house is finished," he inquired.

Brackenreid frowned, not wanting to share personal information with the spy, and frustrated that the man consistently seemed to know things that he felt were really none of the man's business in the first place. He turned to walk to his office and answered, "Murdoch will be along shortly."

"Hmm," Meyers said, following along, "The man does like to ride his bike," irritating the Inspector even a bit more with his intrusive reasoning. It took all of Thomas Brackenreid's self-control not to go directly for a glass of scotch. Meyers wanted to know what the Inspector knew about the removal of the remaining weapons from Brogan's factory. Both men wanted to wait for Murdoch to arrive before they each divulged more to the other, thus they engaged in small talk which was mostly centered on the detective and his family.

When Murdoch arrived, George caught him before he went into the Inspector's office. "Sir, I believe I may have found something important. After we discovered that the weapons had been removed from Brogan's factory this weekend, and knowing Brogan had been killed, by your father I hear, sir, saving your life…" he paused, giving William a chance to nod. George continued, "Well sir, I wondered who might have been around to deal with the Russians – Mrs. McKinnon was recaptured and is currently incarcerated in the Kingston Penitentiary, and Brogan was dead. Even Mrs. Webster was incarcerated…"

"Good question George!" the detective declared, "So who was left to make the deal? You know, Harry said that Countess Fausta purchased his pigeon courier business – and she seemed to be working under someone else, a man. Do you think it might be the man who came with Brogan, but then escaped from our lake-house?"

"Possibly sir," George responded. He had more to say, but the detective kept his own thoughts flowing.

"Harry was sure he shot the man, and the other man had been pretty severely wounded… The one Brogan treated as his right-hand man … he called him by name … Sean! That was it! Brogan called him Sean," he remembered out loud.

George leaned back his face covered in a cat-ate-the-canary look. "Now that's very interesting. Very interesting indeed," George said as he lifted up the records of people coming into Canada from Ireland. These same records had been combed over earlier in the investigation as the constables had worked to try to identify Brogan, using only his first name – Connor, and that fact that he had an Irish accent, before Clegg had told them Connor's full name. "Once we knew Brogan's name, we didn't bother with these records anymore, but look here …" George said as he pointed at a name in the record book.

Murdoch leaned over and read aloud, "C. Brogan … Yes that was likely him George. So what?"

Sliding his finger down to rest under the name below C. Brogan's, George said, "Well, I think you might find the next name alphabetically listed, and signed under his, to be very interesting, sir."

Murdoch read the name and popped his head up to excitedly declare, "S. Brogan … Sean Brogan. They were probably brothers who came together from Ireland!"

"Exactly what I was thinking. And the fact that you heard Connor Brogan call his next in command "Sean" all but seals it!" George watched as the detective's mind raced; he knew the look by now.

Both men's eyes jolted to the Inspector's office as the Inspector opened the door and impatiently bellowed, "Murdoch! What are we waiting for?!"

The detective moved towards the office, saying to George as he did so, "George, take a look in the records of visitors to the women prisoners in the Don Jail … from when Dr. Ogden was there and before that too. I have a … "hunch" as you call it."

Over in the morgue, Julia had gone directly to the operating theatre and began her "operation" on the dress. She cut away much of the soft corset, hoping that the amount she kept of the garment would still work to enhance her cleavage. She sewed it into the dress. Then she ripped off the top four buttons and cut a ragged edge along the one side of the button holes, planning to reveal some of the cleavage she had just worked so hard to amplify. Before she had a chance to work on the length of the dress, Miss James opened the door, and Julia quickly packed the dress and tools into her bag. She gathered up the scraps and threw them out as she greeted Miss James.

A few minutes later, when Julia went to her desk, she discovered a stack of odds and ends that had been left there for her. There was a film – she thought it looked like the one detective Gulliver had procured of Gillies speaking to William when he had been caught in the trap and she was about to be hung. Under that, there was a file folder full of photographs – they were of herself and William, from the night she had returned after being abducted and trapped in the trunk, and then being arrested for having had an abortion, only to have to lie to be freed, and then having that horrible fight with William. But these photos were after that, later that night, when she had brought the sandwiches and worn William's favorite dress. They seemed to have been taken from outside of William's office, when the two of them had stood at the blackboard, and they drew the parallel lines together, and kissed. A creepy feeling, much like when she had found the photo of herself and William kissing, from when she had gone searching for Gillies, turned in her gut. And yet, unexpectedly, just as had happened then, she was still so enticed by the photos. She and William both looked so beautiful, so in love. Looking at them, she also felt such a strong warmth and love in her heart.

Then her eyes dropped down to the book that had been at the bottom of the pile. She lifted it into the air and read the name aloud, "Gulliver's Travels." Her mind twitched and jerked as it sprang in multiple directions; " _The new detective's name is Gulliver,_ " and, " _Finding this book here, on this desk – it seems so familiar, like a memory,"_ and, " _Who could have taken these photos? Who was in the stationhouse that night?_ " but the clincher was, " _Gulliver wanted to show me the film Gillies had made and showed to William while he was caught in the trap…It's Gulliver! - Why would he leave these things!?_ " Her head was spinning and there was an incessant buzzing in her ears. She recognized it as fear, and she worked to calm herself down. Yes, Gulliver had behaved inappropriately at first, but she had come to like the man. It seemed that William had too. " _Was this some weird kind of obsessive love-gift?_ " she wondered. Somewhat stunned, she dropped down into her chair.

The Inspector informed Meyers that Brogan's warehouse had been completely cleared out – but, not surprisingly, Meyers already knew that. Murdoch explained that his father, Harry, had been approached by one of the women prisoners who had gotten away during Cecily McKinnon's attempted escape, and had purchased his pigeon courier business. She was Russian, and seemed to be working for a man … Murdoch suspected he might be Connor Brogan's brother, Sean Brogan. They had spoken, being overheard by Harry, of loading up a boat early Sunday morning.

Meyers laughed and put out his cigar, not seeming to notice the detective and the Inspector sharing a look of annoyance. "Nope Murdoch. I don't think you've got it right this time… The Russians didn't end up with the weapons – the Americans did."

"What?!" the Inspector demanded. "Clegg…You think Clegg did this?!" he questioned.

"I'm afraid so," Meyers replied calmly, and then nauseatingly lit up another cigar.

Murdoch insisted, "Alan Clegg is in the hospital with something like fourteen broken bones. He could barely tell us his own name, let alone organize the clandestine loading and hauling out of a shipload of illegal weapons."

"Wrong again, detective," Meyers gloated, "Clegg _**was**_ in the hospital…" Both Detective Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid stared at Meyers dumbfoundedly. He continued, "It seems that Mr. Clegg, along with his lovely spy, Miss Jane Wolfe, were checked out of the hospital by another American on Sunday afternoon, obviously a new player in the American spy game. They are long gone, I'm afraid."

Murdoch was suspicious. He argued, "Just because they left the hospital around the right time, doesn't mean _**they**_ stole the weapons."

Meyers stuck his cigar in his mouth to free both of his hands and then reached into his vest pocket. He pulled out a ladies hat pin … _**the**_ hat pin with the entangled naked lovers – Jane's hat pin that she had left in the hospital bathroom, the one that had been a gift from Clegg.

"Where did you find that?" the Inspector asked.

"On the dock at Brogan's factory. Clegg was there, probably Jane and whoever this American man was as well," Meyers said.

Murdoch wrinkled up his face, it did seem the evidence pointed to the Americans more so than the Russians. "Sir," he asked looking at the Inspector, "I don't suppose the Navy would have stopped and searched any American boats then?"

The Inspector shook his head, "No… We told them to look for Russian vessels."

Murdoch sighed, trying to control his disappointment. "Well then, if Countess Fausta and the man she worked for left for Russia Sunday morning, as my father overheard them planning, but didn't take the time to load up all those weapons, they would have been able to sail out significantly earlier than when we had notified the Navy," he reasoned, "And then the Americans could have sailed out with the weapons any time after we had notified the Navy – right under our noses." Murdoch thought to himself, " _And the man with Fausta was probably not Sean Brogan then – because it turns out that there was no connection between Fausta and the illegal weapons_."

Inspector Brackenreid wondered out loud, "Do you think Brogan was working with the Americans all along … And Sean Brogan was therefore working for them too?" Meyers said he doubted that Clegg could have faked his passionate concern over the loss of Jane, who it turned out had been taken at the hands of Connor Brogan, implying Clegg would have had to have known that it was Connor Brogan who had taken her if the two men were working together. Murdoch and the Inspector agreed.

Still sitting at her desk in the morgue, and just as Julia noticed a note sticking out of the "Gulliver's Travels" book, the phone rang. Half expecting it to be Detective Gulliver, she picked it up. It was her parole officer.

Inspector Brackenreid disappointingly said, "Well, I guess I had best call the Chief Inspector, and probably the Navy officials as well," and he picked up the receiver. That was the moment that Julia impatiently knocked on the Inspector's door. Meyers looked to the Inspector who was listening to the other end of his phone but still nodded, and then he let her in.

"Thank you," she acknowledged and then hurried over to William. She whispered to him, "I have to talk to you," and pulled him down to sit with her on the couch. It was obvious that Meyers was listening, and she decided to continue anyway. "My parole officer called. He saw the newspaper articles, about the thwarted escape and the balloon and everything. He said I broke the rules of my parole by leaving Toronto's city limits – and that there would be serious consequences ..."

William considered saying, " _I told you so_ ," but thought better of it.

She recognized his thought as it crossed his mind. "Don't gloat William," she warned, and then continued, "At first, I thought, "No more lake-house," but it's much worse than that William. He said they might put me back in jail for violating parole." William's head spun … It seemed she was fated to end up in jail…

Meyers' voice pulled him out of his panic, "Oh for Christmas sake, give me the parole officer's number," he demanded.

Julia jumped up hopefully. She pulled a piece of paper with the parole officer's name and number on it out of her purse and handed it to Meyers. "Oh Terrence, do you think you could help – again?"

Meyers put on his hat and tipped it to her and headed out to the bullpen to make the call, unable to use the phone in the Inspector's office as he was still talking with the Chief Inspector.

Julia returned to the couch and looked at William. He was upset – jaw locked and fists clenched. " _Unbelievable_ ," she thought before she gave him a look. "What?" she asked snidely in a whisper.

He lowered his chin and looked up at her somewhat reproachfully and said, also in a whisper, "You know what."

Julia huffed, displaying her exasperation with this issue. She sat next to him and quietly lectured, "William, you are just going to have to get used to it. Terrence and I are friends, and I am going to keep calling him Terrence."

Surprised at how much her statement made his blood boil, William felt his jaw clench even tighter.

Julia added, "And besides William, it is ridiculous for you to be jealous of him."

Being belittled was certainly not going to help, anger pumped through him in a rush. Whispering with a yelling tone, hands sharply striking at the air, he said, "Ridiculous! Ridiculous! Julia, the man has as much as admitted that he is in love with you!"

Air blasted out of her nostrils, and she felt her anger dissipate a bit with it, leaving room for compassion to bubble up and replace it in her awareness. She could see he was hurting, and she could feel how much she loved him. After a deep breath, she replied, her voice softer, "Listen to what you just said William, " _ **He**_ is in love with me."… He has also as much as admitted that he has had to accept his fate… That he will never have me because he knows that _**I am in love with you**_."

Somehow knowing the words should have reassured him, he was still not able to let go of the jealousy and the worry. He retorted, "Julia, I accepted my fate too – once you had married Darcy, and yet, you showed up in that beautiful red dress on New Year's Eve…"

Julia leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She gave him a firm stare – her mind was working on how to say this, how to finally put this matter to rest, and to hit the nail in the coffin – and hit it hard. She knew she would have to use the truth. "William," she started, leaning forward, increasing their intimacy, "I showed up in that red dress not because I just flipped my love from one man to another. It was always our fate to be together…" She took a deep breath, feeling the power of the bond between them, his eyes locked to hers. He was listening. He knew she was right. Then she acknowledged, "I came to you that night, not because I accepted _**my fate**_ , but because _**Darcy**_ had accepted his. He knew I would always, only, love you, not him, William. It hurt him terribly, and all of his pain is…was, my fault. But as far as jealousy, and accepting fate goes, you certainly should not be jealous, you have all of my love, and you will always have it."

He wanted to smile and feel the happiness that was inherent in what she was saying, but he felt so scolded that he couldn't quite pull it off. He was stuck between his joy and his shame.

Julia saw his struggle and rescued him, "Husband, will you at least admit that you were being ridiculous in being jealous?" she said while wrapping her arm in his and giving him a squeeze. He smiled and nodded. "Good," she said, trying to sound as much like him when he said it as possible. Her imitation got a chuckle from him.

He leaned closer to her and said, "Yes, it is." Wanting to kiss, they each resisted the urge, Julia primping her dress, and William checking his pocket watch.

As they waited, they noticed that the Inspector was now talking with a Navy official.

Soon after, Terrence Meyers returned and proudly informed them that Julia's parole violation problem was taken care of. Julia could go to the lake-house, or anywhere else she wanted. Both Murdoch's thanked him.

Julia reached over and took William's hand for a moment, prompting him to puff his chest out a bit. Keeping her giggle to herself she thought, " _Men!_ "

Inspector Brackenreid hung up the phone and all eyes turned to look at him. He filled them in, "The Navy was able to trace records of ship logs. A boat did leave for Russia – it left port at about one o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday. There were two ships logged as heading for the USA. One left early Sunday morning. The other one – likely the one with Clegg and his crew, left port at ten PM Sunday evening."

His words caused both Murdoch and Meyers to grimace with pain. Meyers spoke before he puffed again on his cigar, "Darn! We could have had them."

Julia asked, "So Countess Fausta was not involved with the illegal weapons – she was not associated with Brogan? … Did she escape to Russia on the boat? And then it was Clegg and the Americans – they took Brogan's stash?"

Realizing that she had not been with them for their earlier discussion, they explained to her that they had strong evidence that Mr. Clegg and Jane Wolfe…

Surprising herself, Julia felt a tug of her least favorite emotion in the world – jealousy, at the mention of Jane Wolfe's name. Her mind played her imaginary version of William having an erotic dream with Jane, the very sexy Jane she had first seen in the photograph Mr. Clegg produced, rather than the battered woman they had found tied up to a dog house. It hurt when she wondered if he had needed to wash his pajamas after that dream – as he had had to do after his dream of her in the "spicy" blue dress. Her guilt chided her hypocrisy, " _Now who is being ridiculous_ ," she thought. Her thoughts had taken her attention, and she missed whatever was said next. She tried to cover, replying, now that everyone was staring at her, waiting for her response, "Oh, I see why you were so frustrated. Do you think we should notify the Prime Minister?"

William's mind replayed his thrill, just a few days ago, at finally being able to remember the man's name after having been whacked on the head. Julia had cared for him so much and in so many ways that day. He became conscious of it for a moment – their profound love for each other, before his attention shifted back to the conversation.

Meyers explained that he would be the one to undertake that unpleasant job; the Prime Minister was not going to be happy.

Then William remembered that Julia didn't know that Connor Brogan had a brother. He asked her if she remembered Brogan calling one of the men with him at the lake-house "Sean?" She did. He informed her that that man was Connor Brogan's brother – that they had come over from Ireland on the same boat a few years ago.

"William?" Julia asked, looking about the room at the other men as well, with her concern, "Does that mean that this Sean Brogan is still out there and may want to harm us – or Harry?! I mean your father killed his brother?!"

"Perhaps," William answered, wrinkling his face with an apologetic and doubting look. It was exhausting to consider the notion that they may still not be out of the woods yet.

The Inspector added, "We'll be looking for him. He may have been dealing with the Americans," he proposed.

"Possibly, but we doubt it," William responded.

"But wasn't Alan Clegg in the hospital?" Julia asked.

The three men looked at each other, puzzled by her question, for they had already told her about Clegg and Jane being checked out of the hospital by an American man; Meyers explained it again.

"Oh yes," she feigned remembering, "This was some of the evidence you spoke of earlier."

As William and Julia left the Inspector's office, George stopped the detective. He had the results of his search of the Don Jail visitor's logs. "I suspect that your "hunch" was correct sir," he hinted as he pointed at a name in the log. Back when they were first looking over these visitor names, all they had was that the man's first name was "Connor," and they were stuck because the guards at the prison allowed visitors to sign in with only a fist initial, and farther, the guards had not recorded which prisoner each person had visited. Now the Constabulary knew that they would have been visiting Cecily McKinnon, as she was running the illegal weapons business – and they knew the men's first names. Murdoch slapped the desk in the excitement of the discovery – both a "C. Brogan" and an "S. Brogan" had visited a woman in prison multiple times! The detective declared, "Cecily McKinnon is likely their sister! She's Irish. It would explain their motivation to go through with the attempted escape even after the damage we had done to Brogan's business, and his men… George, Get me McKinnon's file please."

An uneasy feeling swept through Julia's stomach, causing nausea and dizziness. Once they were in his office, Julia nearly whispered, "William, not only did your father kill Sean's brother, and you one of his men, but you and I may have put his sister back in jail after he had tried to free her. There is reason for him to hold a grudge… Do you think we are still in danger?" He saw panic seize her and she added, "The children?!"

"Julia," he said, his voice calm and confident, "He had a chance to avenge his brother when we were at the lake-house, but he chose to run. Harry thought he even shot him. Sean didn't seem to be insane, as I believe Connor likely was." William took a hold of his wife's shoulders and looked her sincerely in the eye and said, "This is not good news, but I don't think it is worthy of panic either."

"And what of Cecily McKinnon William? Does _**she**_ seem the type to be obsessed with harming us in revenge? She went after the Inspector after all those years," Julia pushed.

William sighed. He had less faith in McKinnon's innocuousness. His eyes left Julia's wide, beautiful, blue ones to fall on the file George carried in his hand as he entered his office. The constable handed him the file and he opened it, quickly finding confirmation of his theory. "Mrs. McKinnon's full name is Cecily Brogan McKinnon," he said, softly closing the file. William strongly blew out some air through pursed lips in an effort to lower the tension he felt. "The Kingston Penitentiary is a much more secure and well-run prison. She will not be very likely to be able to regain the influence she had before. I'll talk with the Inspector and we can alert the Warden there. They will keep a strict eye on her, and her visitor's, and her correspondences. If Sean tries to contact her, he risks being caught," he reassured.

His reasoning seemed sound, and Julia felt a modicum of relief. She worked to quell her fear, "Yes," she answered him, "That makes sense." She gave her husband her best possible smile under the circumstances.

"I'll go speak with the Inspector," he said, guiding her to the door. He stopped at the threshold, wanting to kiss her, wanting to send her off feeling safe. From his desk, George noticed the tender gesture, as the detective slid his fingers into his wife's hair and softly held her head, then leaned close to her and whispered something in her ear. What he could not hear was William reminding Julia that they could handle what would come, reminding her of what they had come to know since back when James Gillies had tormented and threatened them; that together they were stronger than anyone. She headed back to the morgue as William knocked on the Inspector's door.

The news that the Brogan brothers were siblings of Cecily McKinnon's did not surprise either the Inspector or Mr. Meyers; in many ways it helped all the pieces fit together better. The Inspector got on the phone to the Warden at the Kingston Penitentiary – It would be essential to keep a watchful eye over Mrs. McKinnon.

Hearing the stationhouse door close behind her, with her mind rushing forward to her work in the morgue, Julia was reminded of the pile of strange items – likely from Detective Gulliver, back on her desk. She turned back.

Seeing William's black hair on the back of his head from his position sitting on the Inspector's couch, Julia determined that he was involved in conversation once again with Meyers and the Inspector. She decided to ask George first. "Constable," she said, drawing his attention, "Have you seen Detective Gulliver?"

Looking perplexed, he replied, "Come to think of it doctor, it is odd that he is not here yet." He looked to the three men in the Inspector's office through the windows. "Do you think I should tell them?" he asked her.

"You know George," she replied, "I think there is a bit more to it than that."

Before the doctor and Constable Crabtree knocked on his door, the Inspector informed Murdoch that the Chief Inspector – as well as the Prime Minister, Meyers had added, wanted to know if he thought he could remember any of the weapons plans he had seen. He added that his superiors were quite aware of his uncanny brain, and of his impeccable memory. They were hoping that Canada could benefit from having access to such plans.

Standing from the couch, the detective said, "You will be glad to hear that I can do even better than that. I have the plans," he declared. Just as he turned to leave and rush over to the back room in his office to get the hidden weapons plans, Julia and George knocked on the Inspector's door. William opened it and paused to hear what they had to say.

"Sirs," George started, "It seems that Detective Gulliver did not come to work today."

Julia looked at her husband, "Actually, there's more William," she said.

That was enough, however, for Murdoch's mind to bolt to the connection. "Oh no!" he said as he ran towards his office. Everyone followed and watched as the detective flung back the curtain to his back room and rummaged through one of the drawers in the cabinet. Looking defeated, Detective Murdoch lifted his head out of the drawer, "They're gone," he said. "It had to be Gulliver… He used the room to develop some pictures – finger prints and suspects and such. He was the only one who could have known they were here," he figured aloud to the group.

Julia's mind was racing. She couldn't decide whether to say something now about the things Gulliver had left for her, or wait until she had William alone later.

Meyers interjected, "Detective Gulliver … Of course – an American spy. Why didn't I see it? He was working for Clegg all along!"

Frustrated and betrayed, William gave the cabinet a punch. The action was out of character and took everyone aback, save Julia, who wasn't surprised, knowing that William had come to trust the young American. William's reaction swayed her decision, however, and she decided to tell him the rest when they were alone.

George piped in, "Oh that's awful. I had come to quite like the man."

"As had I," the detective added.

"Well me'old mucker," the Inspector said, "I guess we'll be relying on your keen memory after all."

"Yes sir," Murdoch replied sounding disappointed, "I'll get right to work on drawing up what I can remember of the plans... George, have a constable take a photograph of Gulliver over to York Hospital to confirm that he was the American who checked out Mr. Clegg and Miss. Wolfe." George hesitated, resulting in Murdoch developing an air of impatience, "What is it George?" he said, his frustration palpable.

"Well sir, I'm not sure we have a photograph of Detective Gulliver," George pointed out.

Vexed, Murdoch responded, "Of course not… That in and of itself makes it even more likely that he was a spy… Well, we can use a sketch then. Have one made up please."

"Right away sir," George answered.

Everyone else left the detective's office but Julia, who stayed back. "I'm sorry William," she tried to comfort him. "I had become fond of him as well," she explained.

He wrinkled up his face, admitting his hurt. He took a seat at his desk and rolled out some blank plan paper in front of him, deciding to handle his emotions by focusing on work. He would try to recreate the plans. Julia sighed and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek. She would wait a little longer to tell him the rest about Detective Gulliver. She didn't want to add to his burden right now.

Back in the morgue, Julia hurried to her desk. She had forgotten about seeing the note sticking out of the "Gulliver's Travels" book! Sitting in front of the book, she marveled at life's ironies. There were so many connections she could think of between this book and their lives. Gulliver was a ship surgeon – a doctor like herself. And, she remembered that it was this book William had read to their children while she and Terrence Meyers sailed, disguised as a married couple, to Russia to garner some critical information from an imprisoned woman who was really a Canadian spy. She marveled to herself as she was reminded that it was this very situation that first gave rise to William's jealousy of Meyers. Even the story the book told itself had an element of personal relevance, as before each of the four adventures Gulliver goes on in the book, there is always a _**storm**_ – and the best description of her life with William was that it was filled with moments of wild storms and adventures in between moments of bliss – with the worst series of storms being the ones they had just been through. But there was something more – she just couldn't quite put her finger on it. Again she thought that it felt like a memory.

" _When have I seen this book – on my desk like this?_ " she asked herself. Like waves that ebb and flow, she felt her memory approach, only to slide away as she tried to grab ahold of it. Releasing a sigh, she pressed on, figuring that it would come to her at some point after she stopped trying so hard. She pulled the envelope out of the book. It was addressed only to "Julia." She did not recognize the handwriting, but thought it likely they could match it to Gulliver's later. " _What are the odds that the man would have the same name as the protagonist in this famous book?"_ she asked herself. " _If he is a spy… maybe he would have given himself a made-up name, he could have chosen to be called Gulliver_ ," her thoughts continued. Her fingers ripped at the seal and she slid the letter out of the envelope. It read:

Dearest Julia,

Know that you made a difference in a young boy's life, with your open and loving heart – by giving me your trust when no one else in the world had ever done so before. It is because of you that I became trustworthy. And also know, that now, you have made a difference in this same boy's life as a man. For now I have seen that it is that same beautiful heart of yours that has been blessed by the strength, and the power, and the warmth, of your love with your husband, with your soul-mate. You have shown me that such an amazing love is possible. I had never before thought so. And, although I doubt that I, myself, will ever find such a love, knowing it is possible has opened my heart as well. I will be watching for the one who is meant for me. I have hope. You showed me as a boy that _**I**_ _ **could be trusted**_ , and now as a man, you have shown me that _**I could come to trust**_ _**another**_. Perhaps I will not have to go through my life alone, as I had always assumed I would. I wanted to say, "Thank you."

Dory

She remembered now. Any sense of fear she had felt was gone, to be replaced by a sense of hope and awe. This man, known most recently to her as Detective Dorian Gulliver, was the young street boy from nearly two decades ago – the one who had killed another street boy – yes, he was the one who had murdered young "Pip." He had shown an interest in her book, the one that she had borrowed from the library – Gulliver's Travels. And she had given it to him to read, hoping to encourage his mind. William had warned her at the time that such a disreputable boy would steal it, but he had not done so. The boy had brought it back – he had left it on her desk. Now she remembered.

" _These spies are such an odd lot_ ," she thought, " _All in all, they seem to be the least trustworthy people in the world – and yet they work solely for their loyalty to their country. Gulliver … Dory … did seem to turn out to be a good person in the end – but one who would put the needs of his country – now the USA, ahead of all others, even those needs he had for himself._ " Julia sighed, suffering with the contradictions she felt. He had betrayed William, and Canada, and still she believed he had made something good out of his life.

Julia imagined for a moment telling William about who Detective Gulliver really was. " _That old case with Dory and Pip, it had involved robberies, and a woman –Miss Moffat,_ " she remembered, " _And it had turned out to be a very poignant case for William, in that it had signified something important for him about class. He had remembered me as saying about Pip, as I reported his postmortem, "The clothes don't match the boy." William had become intensely conscious of our class differences from that comment, as I had noticed a wealthy boy's clothes on a poor boy. He figured it was further proof that it was our class differences that had rendered my finding Darcy to be a better husband than he could be for me… On some level, I think William saw Dory as what he could have been if it hadn't been for the Jesuit Priests and a little luck. Come to think of it, I wager William would have made a pretty good spy – except for his empathic nature,_ " she thought with a smile.

Her thoughts drifted to Countess Fausta. Like William and young Dory, she had held a similar suspicion about herself in relation to this woman rebel and radical who William had told her was really named Sally Smoot. Julia believed that if she had not been of privilege, she would probably have been like Sally Smoot – fighting in the trenches to help women. Awareness of a feeling of relief dawned on her as she realized that she had felt terribly guilty when she had come to believe she may have been the one who let the "the Countess" go free in the woods after the balloon crash, only for the woman to betray Canada and make illegal weapons deals with Russia. Thank goodness Fausta was innocent of such transgressions.

The morgue door slammed as Miss James returned from her lunch, pulling Julia out of her reflections. She informed Julia that the bodies of Connor Brogan and the other man, the one William had killed with the stone, had arrived while she was over at the stationhouse. Julia would need to call another coroner to deal with them, as she was much too involved in their deaths. The unknown man needed to be identified – however cause of death seemed quite obvious in both cases as those responsible for their deaths had admitted to them and there were multiple eye-witnesses. She only hoped there wouldn't be any further problems for William or his father, as the authorities from the county in which the men had died had already determined the actions of both William and Harry Murdoch to have been in self-defense. She made the call to the other coroner and then decided to go back over to the stationhouse to see how William was doing at remembering the weapons plans. " _Perhaps he is hungry?"_ she thought.

Carrying the small box containing Detective Gulliver's – Dory's – items, Julia crossed the bullpen, only to hesitate in front of George's desk. Her husband had closed the door (a sign that he did not want to be disturbed) and was curled over one plan or another on his desk, his intense focus and concentration both obvious and impressive. He really was an amazing man; she had every confidence he would be able to recreate the plans.

With her presence, George's attention had also been drawn to the detective. "If there is anybody who could redraw those weapons plans from memory, doctor, it is your husband," he said.

Holding her eyes to the striking sight of William working, she replied, "Yes, yes. I believe you are probably right about that George. I was going to ask him about lunch…" She turned to look at the constable and thought out loud, "If I don't force him, he will go all day without eating, I'm sure," she explained. George nodded in agreement. Julia took a deep breath, she had made a decision. "George, I'm going to go get us some lunch. I'd love to treat you as well. Would you like a sandwich?" she asked. After taking his order, she left the box with Dory's things on his desk and went to buy the three of them lunch.

She returned and gave George his lunch. He informed her that the nurses and doctors confirmed that it was Detective Gulliver who had taken Mr. Clegg and Miss Wolfe out of York Hospital. They shared their disappointment in being betrayed and tricked by the man that they each had come to like. Julia took a deep breath and decided to take a chance at stirring the hornet's nest of her very-focused husband's office. She stacked their lunches on top of the box, and then struggled to knock on William's door. William looked up, and to her delight – and also her relief, he broke into a gorgeous smile. George jumped up to get the door for her.

"Thank you George," she said as she carried her load over to the worktable. Hearing the door close behind her, she unpacked and asked William, "How is it going with remembering and drawing up the plans?" She allowed herself the pleasure of soaking in the sight of him as she lifted her eyes to meet his, seeing him so excited, stirring inside of her both pride and lust, as he elaborated on what he had accomplished and what he still needed to do.

"I have done two of them," he started. "I'm almost finished with this one," he continued, looking down at the plans currently on his desk. "It is very interesting … it is a method for sterilizing water. Come see," he invited.

She went around to stand next to him as he explained how the ultraviolet light kills the bacteria and other organisms, but does not harm the water for human consumption. "Fascinating!" she declared. They both so enjoyed sharing science and discoveries with each other. It was one of the ways that their relationship thrived and stood-out as being so special, destined. William's eyes dropped down to the part of the plans he had been working on. He wanted to finish. She placed a hand on his shoulder and heard him respond to her touch by taking a deep breath. She stepped behind his chair and began to massage his shoulders, as expected, the muscles were quite tight.

"You are so lovely to me Julia," he said. Quietly for a few moments, he let her care for him. When her hands had tired, she suggested that they eat.

Accepting the fact that he would be able to finish later, he stood, and they headed to the worktable to eat, each sitting on a stool. Predictably, William's mind was still on his work. "I'm not sure we need the plans for the bomb that explodes when the button has been set and is then allowed to lift…we still have an actual bomb, the one that was sent in a package to the stationhouse for the Inspector…

Julia's mind replayed the image of William and Detective Gulliver staying behind, to disarm the package, after everyone else had been evacuated. The memory evoking a pang of fear in her.

William continued his itinerary, "And I don't see much point in making the plans for the anti-torpedo mechanism – the one that actually started this whole case, because Edgar Flate died testing it. It was clearly a bad design, but maybe somebody would be able to alter it…" Taking a bite of his sandwich, he turned to her and wrinkled his face into his, "I'm not quite sure," expression. She nodded and suggested he save it for last. Mentally, he ran through his thoughts and, brightened up, saying, "There is still one I need to make – for a bouncing mine..."

Julia found herself filled with love for this man, "This man who gets so excited about such things," she thought.

He explained, "I figure it is what Brogan used from the dirigible to blow up the Inspector's house … and to destroy the road in front of McKinnon's prison convoy the night they were being transported to Kingston." He took a sip of tea and went on, "And of course, your weapon of choice – the hand grenade." He smiled at her, remembering seeing her bravely hiding in Brogan's factory, signaling to him to ask how to use the grenade. She saved his life twice that day, he thought... Pulling his mind back to his list, he said, "I made the one for arming the dirigible with self-firing guns…"

Julia asked why that was necessary – "We still have the two racks of guns used in Isabel Webster's booby trap the she left in her attempt to kill the two of us, don't we?"

Pausing for a moment to swallow more of his lunch, William explained, "Yes, but there were some significant differences in the design, and significant points about installing them on the dirigible – like where to put them and how to allow the pilot to fire them... Oh, and I made the one that explained the battlefield light." He gave her a warm and proud look when he added, "There was some heroine or another who used the only two lights that we had to apprehend a deadly escaped prisoner, so we no longer had any samples." He followed his appreciation of her with a slight bow.

Stepping off of her stool, the magnetism between them increasing exponentially with her approach, she asked, "A heroine you say?"

Her closeness had momentarily dazed him, thus his mouth had frozen mid-bite. The difference in their heights, as he sat while she stood, lined her cleavage up with his eyes, and she noticed as she looked down at his eyes, that they were quite involved with studying her bosom. Her womb twitched as she imagined him touching her, putting his mouth on her. As she lifted her hands up to play with his tie, her upper arms pinched her breasts together and she heard him, ever so slightly, gasp. A familiar delicious feeling of dizziness began to spin in her head.

He pulled himself back, " _We're in my office_ ," he thought, and he began to chew once more and then swallow his food. When she began to speak, having regained some modicum of self-control, he lifted his eyes, finding hers, only to be drawn into their captivating blue depths.

"Was this heroine an expert balloonist by any chance? Lighting up the nighttime sky with her luminesence?" Julia asked, greatly enjoying the power she felt over him as he struggled to keep his hands to himself. Her fingers left his tie, gliding across his shirt, spreading out to explore the bulge of his pectoral muscles as they tucked under his vest. She would stop herself there, although it was she who now fought her urges, wanting so very much to seek-out his nipples and drive him completely over the edge of his tolerance.

" _She's too close_ ," he thought. William swallowed again as he prepared to speak, hoping to minimize the dryness in his throat that would betray his degree of desperation. "You're not eating your lunch, Julia," he said. His efforts at masking his state had failed, warming her heart beyond measure.

William's head nearly danced away into a swirling abyss as she stepped in even closer and whispered, somewhere above his ear, "I found something else to wet my appetite, husband."

He cleared his throat and replied, "The blinds are open, people will see - George is right at his desk."

"William," her voice commanded, "George has seen plenty – he has seen me wrapped in merely a sheet and red bow…" She stepped back ever so slightly and added, "Come to think of it, he has even seen me without the sheet or the bow, she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

William's thoughts and emotions battled inside of him – his own memories of seeing Julia naked for the first time, at the nudist camp, stealing his mind's eye, stirring an insatiable lust in him, seemed to only intensify his embarrassment, and then to bring about a rise in him for he felt a good dose of pride too, at knowing that George and the Inspector had seen her that same way, that they would know how truly devastatingly gorgeous she really is underneath her clothes, and they would know what a truly lucky man he was.

Julia stayed put and enjoyed watching the show, almost as if she could see what was happening inside of him. He was drawn back into the moment when she gave in to the urge to giggle.

"William! What is going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" she teased, for she already knew, and by the way he looked at her and blushed, he knew that she knew as well. "My God I love you William Murdoch… I truly do," she said and then took mercy on him and stepped back to sit on her stool once more.

Relief set in quickly, and the room seemed to slow. He took a deep breath. He worked to remember what they had been talking about. " _Oh yes_ ," he thought, " _the re-making of the weapons plans_." He felt it bubbling up in his gut – regret, maybe even guilt. "You know," he said, changing the subject, "None of this would have happened if I didn't hide the plans in the first place – if I didn't keep them from Meyers." Their eyes met and he wrinkled a corner of his mouth, letting her know he was sorry for it. Shame swept in and he had to look away. He said, "I feel like such a fool. How could I not see that Gulliver was an American spy?"

Julia ducked down in her seat, trying to get low enough to catch his line of sight now that he had dropped his chin. "William," her voice reassured, "Perhaps I need to remind you that everyone has both good and bad in them… everyone – you included, and Gulliver too." She decided it was time to tell him about Dory. "Remember the old case we worked on, back when I was still married to Darcy, involving two young street boys, and one of them got killed by the other – one was Pip…"

He lifted his head and turned to look at her. William's eyes grew big with discovery. He had figured out who Gulliver was with just that. He finished her thought, "And the other was Dory … Dorian Gulliver! Wasn't the book you lent him "Gulliver's Travels?"

Julia nodded. She had to remind herself what a good memory he had. "William, you are so quick!" she declared.

William jumped up and started for the door saying excitedly, "We will have his fingerprints! Dorian Calvert I believe was his name. We can compare them to those we took from Detective Gulliver."

Julia reached out and took his elbow, stopping him. "We don't need to confirm it William. I am certain that Detective Gulliver and young Dory are one in the same," she explained. Her eyes moved to the box on the other side of the worktable; his followed. He returned to his seat. His curiosity was piqued. He looked back at her. She had his attention. However, when Julia stood on the rungs of her stool, and leaned across the table to reach for the package, his body twitched with desire at the sight as she lay out before him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the change in him. She slowed her progress in retrieving the box, pausing to extend his pleasure. Her womb flipped over, the lovely lustful feelings being stirred once again. A smile grew on her face as she saw, again in her periphery, that he had leaned over to get a better view of her derriere as it dangled enticingly while she bent over the edge of the table.

In his mind's eye, William could see her, delectably naked, tucked under him, pressed down into their bathroom countertop, as he surged deeply into her with everything he had. So quickly his brain began to spiral and float with agonizing want. Then he flashed to remembering her aggressively pushing him back into the wall, and he heard her voice in his head insisting, "I absolutely love it when we make love like that."

Still bent over the edge of the table, delighted with her ability to tease him mercilessly, Julia said seductively, "William, I believe you need to exercise some of that phenomenal self-control you are so famous for."

Prompting him to remember how difficult it had been to pull back from nearly making love to her this morning when the children knocked at their door … and then the memory of the scrumptious microburst of lovemaking they had shared afterwards replayed in his brain, enveloping him a warm splash of pleasure as he re-lived the sensation of sliding inside of her as she "took a seat" on him, around him.

Julia lifted the box off of the table and brought it closer to them. Suspecting he was having a fantasy, she coyly asked him what he was thinking.

He cleared his throat, verifying her suspicions, and said, his voice huskier than normal, "Have a seat doctor," with his chocolate brown eyes twinkling as he said it, capturing her momentarily in his spell.

Sensing the tide had turned and that _**he**_ now had bewitched _**her**_ , she dropped her chin to look away, to slow the whirlpool of desire she was feeling. Quickly recovered, coquettishly she gave him a smile and replied, "Gladly detective," and ever so slowly, ever so provocatively, she lowered her buttocks down to the stool, enjoying watching him watch, knowing she was driving him wild with her flirtations.

Back in the Murdoch home, Eloise had finished cleaning the couple's bedroom and was gathering up the suits and dresses that needed to be sent out to be dry-cleaned. Fortunately, she made it a habit to check the pockets for items before she packed up the garments. Today she found two! In the detective's pants pocket of one of his suits she found a pocketknife. It was quite beautiful, although she thought it a bit feminine for her employer, with its opulent pearl handle. She placed it on his night-table, confident that he would find it later, and that once the door to their bedroom was closed, the children would not enter, and therefore they would be safe from any danger it posed.

She found herself terribly intrigued by the other item she had found, this one in a pocket of her mistress' dress. Remembering the beautiful flowers, arranged like a rainbow, that were currently displayed downstairs on the dining room table, she figured that this was the love-note that had likely accompanied the flowers. Written in the detective's hand and addressed to his wife, the envelope was unsealed. She could hardly remember a time in her life that she struggled so hard with her conscience not to snoop. At one point, she had even slid the note out of the envelope, only to regain control, and tuck it back in again before she had given in to the urge to read it. Deciding she had better hurry and do the right thing before she weakened once more, Eloise rushed over to the doctor's night-table and placed the tantalizing note there for her. She made sure to pull the door shut and then quickly carried the clothes downstairs, hoping she could forget about the detective's love-note.

Whenever William and Julia found themselves so enamored with each other that they rode the romantic waves of temptation right to the precipice before they pulled back, as they had been doing in his office over lunch, it was surprising that they ever finished a conversation that they had started. And yet, Julia knew there was almost as much thrill to be had by sharing with William what Dory had left for her as there was to be had by playing at seducing him. Before he took his last bite of lunch, and then would be driven to get back to his work, she opened the box she had placed before them.

On the top of the pile, there was the film. She knew her notions were right, about it being the film James Gilles had made, when she observed William's reaction to it. Clearly he would have stolen it back and hidden it away if he could have, and yet, the man's natural curiosity tugged at him. She could practically hear him thinking, " _Why would Gulliver, or Dory for that matter, possibly want to give that film to Julia?_ " She sighed, figuring she was at a disadvantage for never having seen the film, but she reminded herself that it would make much more sense to him after he read the note Gulliver had written her. From what Gulliver had said about overhearing William's interrogation of Isabel Webster, the film likely provided strong proof of William's love and devotion to her.

She placed her hand over his, drawing his eyes from the film and taking them with hers. "Gulliver had found that in the evidence from the case against me – well, more accurately, he must have gone looking for it…" she started to explain.

William wrinkled a corner of his mouth, making his puzzlement evident and asked, "Why?"

Knowing she wanted to have this part of the conversation, about this intriguing film, some other time, she said, "It will make more sense after you have read the note. It was in this book…" Julia pulled the book out of the box and handed it to William. She added, "Of course, you had already figured this part out."

With his eyes fixed on the book, William said, "It must have been very important to him – your lending him the book, to remember it all these years, and then to take the name Gulliver," he finished, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"Yes. Yes, I think it did," she replied. She reached over and slid the note out of the book. "Read it William," she said.

As William read the words, thoughts and images flashed through his mind, and yet in the end he mostly just felt stunned. " _Such a little action, a simple gesture that Julia had taken so long ago had had such a profound and lasting effect on this boy,_ " he thought. A boy that William had come to believe was likely born bad. Of course, he had always left room in his judgement for the possibility that a hard life could have caused the disturbing ease with which Dory had murdered Pip. He had felt conflicted about it back then. He still felt conflicted about it now. There was no one in the world that could better help him figure this all out than Julia. _She is so amazingly wise,_ " he thought. He started down the path of trying to understand; he turned to her for help, "But Julia, I don't think he ended up being very trustworthy. Do you?" he asked.

"Well, I guess that depends on how you are related to him…" she said, noticing William's beautiful eyelashes as he blinked. He seemed to be hanging on her every word. "He clearly put his country – now the USA, above anything else. I guess as much as any spy could be trusted, he could be trusted," she continued thinking out loud.

William nodded, considering the only spies he really knew, Meyers and Clegg, and how little he trusted either of them. Of course, his feeling s about Meyers had been complicated by the spy's mission with Julia a few years ago, and the impending jealousy he had come to feel about the relationship that had developed between them as a result, but still, he had to admit, he had grown somewhat fond of the man. But he would not go so far as to say he trusted him. He definitely did not.

Julia added, "And if you consider that Dory became a spy, then I think he was more trustworthy to you than was necessary given the general situation. I mean, you were just a detective he was pretending to learn from… And in the end, I had the feeling that he honestly had come to respect you – and to care for you William," she concluded.

Her husband frowned, "As did I," he agreed. William's eyes fell back down to the note. When he lifted his chin back up to join his eyes to hers, there was a brightness, almost a hope that she saw there. The sparkle in his eye dissipated as his mouth wrinkled and he expressed his confusion, "And what do you make of the rest … He seemed quite taken with … us."

A smile grew on her face, "Yes, yes he was," she agreed. Thoughts flicked through her mind like a swarm of fireflies; finally she grabbed a hold of one of them and said, "I think he had spent most of his life thinking he loved me … It would explain his aggressive and seductive behavior when he first arrived, but then I think he saw how truly strong our love for each other was. Remember, William, he was around while we coped with so much – and we relied so heavily on each other through some enormous trials and tribulations, all under his observant eyes. If you think about it, he was around us when we worked together through our struggles much more so than anybody else was this past two weeks." She paused for a moment and then said, "You know, I think there are only a few people in the world who really see how special our love for each other is – and most of them have known us for a long time … and have seen us go through so much – like my marrying Darcy, and then being framed for his murder, and all the drama with James Gillies … And even Eva Pearce … And the capture of myself and the children by Leslie Garland, who set up that awful dilemma for you, forcing you to choose between saving me or our children. I still thank our lucky stars for Eva Moon … Now Constance Gardiner – she is a real heroine. But Gulliver, he saw what we have in only a week or two – but he saw it. I think it floored him … In a way, I think it seduced him and inspired him. He wanted to be like us … I think."

Their eyes danced together, staying connected while each took a deep breath and centered. Julia remembered the photographs. Reaching for the folder in the box she said, "William, I don't think he went out of his way to find the weapons plans you had hidden…" She handed him the folder and continued, "I think he snooped around, probably just out of habit, and came upon them when he developed these." She watched William's eyes as he caught sight of the photographs of the two of them, himself and her, talking so intimately, of them standing together as each one drew a line on the chalkboard that moved solely to stay parallel to the line of the other – while they kissed. She looked for signs that William felt intruded upon – as she had felt when first laying eyes on the photographs, before reading Gulliver's note. She wondered if he would react as she did, similarly to when first seeing the photos Leslie Garland had taken of them when trying to scare them into believing James Gillies was still a threat – She looked for his aversion. Gratefully, she didn't see it. Although there was a measure of confusion, what she mainly saw was that William, too, could see in these photographs the timeless and profound connection between himself and her. Gulliver had captured it. It was apparent. She saw William recognize the photographs as evidence of the magic of their love. She knew that he knew that the man who took these photos had seen it too.

"I don't know what to say," William finally uttered.

She leaned over from her stool and reached to place her fingers under his chin and draw his eyes to hers. She slid her thumb over his lips, tracing them tenderly. A warm smile graced her face before he leaned over to get closer to her and then she whispered, "Neither do I."

The Inspector hesitated outside the detective's door. " _My God, it looks like they are going to kiss_ _ **again**_ ," he thought. His mind flashed to making love this morning with Margaret, and a smile grew on his face. He sighed. He would have to interrupt them. It was the Prime Minister who was on his way here after all.

Their lips touched so lightly, moved across those of the other so deliberately and so slowly – relaxed, not holding their breath – like they had all of the time in the world. Each reveled in the feel and the smell and the taste and the sound of the other. Heads swam and twirled and floated and dropped. This was true love…

And yet, there were the inevitable interruptions, in this case a knock at the door. Neither was willing to flinch, to jerk away from the other. William moaned, complaining through the ending of the kiss. Once it was broken off, however, he remembered that they were in his place of work, and embarrassment set in. It was the Inspector, rather than George at the door, thus intensifying the surge of his blush. The Inspector opened the door and leaned in. "Sorry me old' mucker," he said, "But, the Prime Minister is on his way. I thought you might want to get as much of those plans done as possible," he explained.

William stepped off of his stool and gave a nod. "Yes. Thank you sir. I have gotten quite a lot done… I'm almost finished with the one on my desk, and I have already completed two others. I will try to finish the last one, for the bouncing mine before he gets here … I think it would be very beneficial," he elaborated.

Julia stood and quickly tucked the items back in the box and then cleaned up their lunch. "I'll head back to the morgue then, detective," she said. "Inspector," she acknowledged as she left.

Seeing the food reminded Thomas that Margaret had called … She hadn't called him in the middle of the day like that for no good reason for years. She was making his favorite – pot roast for dinner. A cocky smile slid onto his face as he thought he would stop and buy her flowers; he was quite sure she would … _**appreciate**_ them. He almost missed the chance to respond to Julia's good-bye, hurrying to reply, "Doctor."

Alone with Murdoch, the Inspector stood up tall and proclaimed, "It seems the Prime Minister is pleased that we were able to salvage some of the clandestine information held by the Americans in this case…Thanks to your remarkable memory – and the fact that you had found the plans in the first place." The Inspector made a clicking sound with his tongue, adding to the snap and glee of his statement – further suggesting that they had pulled something off, which, of course they had, for Canada may have had even more information if William had given the plans to Meyer's in the first place. The Inspector continued on to make a point that William had not really considered, saying, "And Prime Minister Borden is quite excited about Canada's capture of the large boat and the dirigible, out on Lake Ontario as per your suggestion detective. I do believe in his eyes you are a hero again, and the Constabulary, particularly as represented by Stationhouse #4, has once again saved the day."

"Very good sir," Detective Murdoch responded. This was all good news, but he wanted to finish the plans. "Please close the door when you go. Would you sir?" he added as politely as possible, hoping his superior would get the point.

Inspector Brackenreid's eyes grew large, "Of course – Time is of the essence," he said and then quickly left, closing the door behind him.

Later that night, after the children had been tucked into bed, William took Moose for a walk and then went down into his workroom in the basement to lift some weights. Julia enjoyed a glass of wine and read in the parlor for a while. She decided to head upstairs, thinking she might turn in early. As soon as she entered the bedroom she spotted both items Eloise had placed on the night-tables, bringing a smile to her face. She was excited about the love-note from William, remembering she had put it in her pocket and had not ever gotten around to reading it. Making herself wait, she went, instead, over to pick up the pocketknife, admiring the fluttering of opulent colors, flashes of green and pink, on the handle as she flipped the knife from side to side, letting it catch the light. She knew William had bought this for her – to replace his previous gift, which had been left dulled by her efforts to free herself from the trunk. With more distance between herself and the traumatic event, she became poignantly aware of the significance and danger in the situation. She could have died, alone… Perhaps never to be found. Maybe William was like Prince Charming after all, having given his Cinderella the very tool she needed to survive – to save herself. " _I wonder if I could have gotten out of the trunk without the knife?_ " she thought.

Then she heard it in her head, clearly a memory, but so fresh it almost seemed to be right there, William's voice, from nearly twenty years ago. He had stayed with her after Orville had tried to kill her, and she had stabbed and killed her assailant. William had spent the night on her couch. When she had awoken, having had a terrible nightmare, he had wrapped his nearly naked body in a sheet and rushed to her side. The sight of him dressed so… Julia now raising an eyebrow at her own thoughts as she recognized that much of William's enticing physique, with one of his shoulders and half of his muscular chest, had been exposed … however, the sight of him dressed so had prompted her to laugh and call him her, "Greek God."

He was truly beautiful, but what had really touched her that night was how he had cared for her, respected her, and empowered her. At one point she had dreamt that Orville was stalking her, each of them on opposite sides of the cabinet in the morgue, and she DID NOT FIND THE SCISSORS! She had no weapon. Her screams at the realization had pulled her out of the frightening dream. Terrorized, she had asked William, as she recognized how close to dying she had really come, "What if I had not left the scissors out, William?" Filled with certainty, he had taken her face in his hands, holding her eyes firmly to his gorgeous big brown ones, he had said, "You are very smart, determined, and strong Julia. You would _**not**_ have given up; you would have thought of something. Perhaps you would have poured a chemical in his eyes, or turned out the lights, benefitting from your familiarity with the morgue. I know you would have found a way to survive." With his words, with his faith in her, he had galvanized and emboldened her self-confidence. It had served her well throughout the years.

Then she read the love-poem. It touched her deeply, and inspired her to go downstairs and find William and then love him with all of her might. Over on her vanity was her bag. Opening it, she took out the spicy, tattered blue dress. She replaced the blunted pocketknife with the new one. Then she directed her attention to the dress. Not having yet finished her alterations, she took out a pair of scissors and finished the job.

She removed all of her clothes and then slid her bare body into the skimpy dress. After tilting forward to let gravity help her breasts fill the low-cut front, she stood up and looked at her image in the mirror. Oh, it was magnificent – wild and sexy. The ripped away buttons in the front revealed exquisite cleavage, and, " _Oh my,_ " the jagged, dangerously short skirt sprang outward from the arch in her back, allowing the hem to hang ever so enticingly over the edge of her buttocks, the blue ragged fabric floating barely an inch or two above the highest part of the back of her thigh. " _Oh, William is in so much trouble,_ " she thought.

Stopping off in the dining room to take a red rose from the rainbow bouquet – it had to be a red one according to William's poem –she was pleased to note that they still looked fresh – opened wide and delightfully supple, at their ultimate prime.

As her bare feet stepped on the stairs to the basement, a memory flashed through her mind, giving rise to smile and an extra jolt to her womb. Almost a decade ago, she had hidden away in the secret passageway in the same room she was headed for now, waiting to surprise William. " _Was it his birthday?"_ she strained to remember. He had read to her from his journal about a dream he had had in which she treated him roughly, during an interrogation … " _Oh yes, about the nature of his relationship with Mrs. Jones,_ " she thought. At the time, their house was still under construction; they were living in the hotel, but she had dressed in quite a sexy red outfit, with a bowler hat, and hidden, lying in wait, in the partially constructed home, listening for the sound of his footsteps on these very stairs. Oh, and the lovemaking had been very intense; she remembered she had almost pushed him a little too far – she had restrained him in his desk chair and very much had her way with him. " _Hmm_ ," she thought.

Down at the bottom of the stairs, she looked across the children's playroom to see that William's workroom door was open, the light from his more private room spilling out through the vast space of the large, slightly toy-cluttered, room. Expecting him to be working out, she was surprised to find that he was seated at his desk, his attention honed in on some paper he was intensely writing on – " _Perhaps he's finishing up one last set of weapons plans_ ," she thought. It occurred to her that she might startle him; he clearly didn't know she was there. His desk was in the same place it had been all those years ago, back in the corner opposite the door she was now standing in, hence she believed that if she moved, he would catch sight of her. Of course, back then the desk had had a red bow on it – appearing to be his intended gift, only for her to surprise him, wearing her revealing outfit and parading before him making known her true plans. " _But how to best drive him wild with desire now?"_ she pondered, as she watched, enjoying the sight of him cerebrally working, his bare chest and muscular arms cooling in the air after his work out. She remembered laying out over his worktable in his office earlier in the day, to reach for the box. " _Perhaps his worktable here would invoke a similar response from him,_ " she considered.

Julia's best effort at calling his name coyly, "William?" drew a minimal amount of her husband's attention. " _Well, at least I didn't startle him,"_ she thought.

Frustratingly, he kept his eyes down on his paper, and even more irritatingly, his pencil persisted in moving as he continued making his computations when he replied, "Mm."

Julia ducked her chin down and glared up through her eyelashes at him to no avail. She sighed and decided it might be to her advantage that he had not yet seen her – he would be more disarmed. She started her strut towards him, pausing to place the red rose at the far edge of his worktable, noticing that the workspace was completely clear of anything else. She could tell he saw her approaching out of the periphery of his sight. She halted opposite from him on the other side of his desk. "You seemed to be taking so long for your workout…" she said, making every effort to keep the smile from growing on her face.

His eyes still down, but at least the pencil had hesitated, he replied, "Yes. I wanted to jot down what I remembered of the grenades."

"Oh," she responded, and then bent forward over his desk top, feeling the sensation of the weight of her breasts being cupped and confined within the revealing dress resulting in their bulging upwards to fill up the empty space above their containment. She praised herself for thinking to sew the soft corset into the garment. A quick memory flashed through her mind, of a dream William had described to her from before they had started courting. In his dream they were at a crime scene and he had been distracted by the view of her breasts as she leaned over a body. He had apologized upon seeing that she had caught him looking down her dress, but then, dream-Julia had taken him into a back room and had her way with him – much as she intended to do right now. Holding her position, with a hand on either side of his "work," her breathy voice said, "I figured, detective, that, if you had been working out for such a long time, you would be rock hard by now. I came to see if my hypothesis was right."

Finally, he lifted his chin, likely starting out with the intention to meet her eyes, but having his eyes hijacked by her bosom, irresistibly packaged and evocatively exhibited before him. Oh my, how well Julia's plan worked. He truly was in trouble. His breath caught, his heart skipped, his mind spun into mush and his groin ignited. Being a bright man, somewhere in his swirling awareness, the detective had quickly determined what he was in for, but he was unprepared, and thus he was struggling to pull back from her lustful charms. Feeling choked, he cleared his dry throat. All of his efforts seemed to be failing, the speed of the fall hypnotizing him with its terrifying pleasure. His first attempt to speak faltered, the sounds more like squeaks and grunts than words. After swallowing, he tried again, "I see your dress survived the laundry cupboard quite well, doctor," he managed to get out, his voice growing huskier with each word. He was gaining control, and yet, his eyes were still stuck.

"Some of the buttons seem to have been lost," she said as she rose to stand, enjoying the magnetic pull she had on him, noticing his eyes rise and maintain their alignment with her breasts as she did so. She reached up with her fingers and pinched at the empty buttonholes, intentionally letting the ends of her fingers slip across the marshmallowy flesh to disappear in the depths of her cleavage. Dangling, unruly curls framed her face as she tilted her head, luring him with her bare neck, her most vulnerable aspect. Julia walked around to his side of the desk. Her womb twisting excrutiatingly tightly, for his eyes were now exploring the boundary between the tattered hem of her dress and her thighs. "Do you like it detective?" she asked, stopping within reach.

He would not respond right away. Rotating in his chair, only able to hear his own words in his head, " _ **All**_ _that she has on is the dress. She is right there, completely unguarded, available, helpless._ " He called upon all of his strength to gain the upper hand. "Young lady, I believe you should be arrested for indecent exposure. Are you wearing any undergarments under that dress?" he interrogated, his eyes still entranced by the triangle made by her thighs and the blue hem.

"Why detective," she teased, adding to his fire by wiggling her hips, "If I answer that I might incriminate myself."

William stood, becoming more imposing. He stepped close to her, and for both of them, the room began to spin. The air suddenly smelled of ozone – a lightning strike was imminent. As his hands gripped her waist firmly and he pulled her close, her gasp surged out into the room, and he tilted his head and found her ear. He said, "I have a hypothesis of my own to test then, and I have ways of making you talk. When I am through, you will give me what I want."

The tide had turned and now it was Julia who teetered on the edge of self-control. The smell of him dug deep down into her, searching for her soul. It took everything she had to keep the chant **inside her head** , not to let her cries slide out of her throat " _William…Oh please William. Don't … Please don't …"_

But he did, he took her in a demanding, hearty kiss. And his hands, they ventured around to the arch in her back, and then moved down. She felt it, the air blasting out of his nostrils as he became dangerously aroused by the feel of riding over the curves of her, and the tips of his fingers reached the fabric at the bottom of her dress as it danced and fluttered barely a finger's width from her skin. Her knees weakened and having to choose to fall or hold on, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. The lifting of her arms had raised the hem of her dress. The detective was only millimeters away from confirmation of his theory. He broke off the kiss and said, "Shall I examine the evidence?"

Oh, how close she was to abandoning all hope, but the words swam forward and slipped out of her mouth, delaying his certain discovery, "Do you have a warrant, detective?" she asked.

His voice grumbly with desire he answered, "I didn't think I'd need one," and then flung her back out into the cyclone as his lips, his tongue, his teeth, took her neck. He felt it; she dropped, nearly floored by her want for him.

Only a half an inch lower, but now she felt his need for her, pressing hard against her tender mound. Breath cascaded out of her. She weakened, releasing a deep moan. She fought against the force that had gripped her, the struggle bringing tears to her eyes. " _Don't you dare_ ," she thought, unsure if her mind wanted to threaten him or herself – it was too soon. Their tortuous love required being pushing beyond their limits. It came out as a raspy whisper, when she set the rules; he would need a warrant, "Oh, but you do William. You really, really do," she declared.

With that, he pulled back, giving control over to her. She stepped out of his arms, and he became mesmerized by the sight of her, her bosom heaving, desperately out of breath, so flush, so creamy pink. She was absolutely beautiful. She reached up to place her hands against her now ruffled hair and said, "My hair must look a mess." Their eyes met, and like magnets when aligned, the force surged, pulling the one to the other. They both leaned back against the pull, the centripetal force becoming magnified as they did so. Julia stepped back another step, temporarily dampening the power, and continued the game. "There is another piece of evidence you might want to consider, detective. There was a poem … and there is a rose." Her eyes moved to the rose on the distant edge of the worktable, prompting his eyes to follow. "Shall I get it for you?" she asked.

His head spun as he pictured it – her walking away from him. Her perfect bottom, wiggling and sucking him in as she walked, and the blue dress brushing ever so closely to what he so wanted to touch, to taste, to rupture. He watched as she turned and stirred the waves in the air between them, stealing his breath and pulling the rug out from under him in her wake. He placed a hand down on the desk to steady himself. Standing at the table, she arched her back and bent forward to lie over the table, reaching all of the way across it to touch the rose. As she did so he saw it – the proof of her vulnerability, her defenselessness, for the blue fabric rode up, uncovering the lowest edge of her round, creamy buttocks.

"Freeze!" he ordered. "You are under arrest. Don't move. I have my proof," he added. William hurried to stand behind her.

"What is it detective?" Julia coyly asked. He lifted the bottom of the dress up and nearly lost his mind at the sight of her. He wanted to be inside of her… deep, deep inside of her – now. Unable to resist the temptation, he put his hands on her, starting at the outer edges of her hips and gliding down over the supple cheeks to dip along the curves and slide down the backs of her thighs. Betraying his excitement, a moan escaped as he exhaled some of his exhilaration, instantly causing Julia's body to react and surge into an arch. His manly, rough, hands then reversed and traveled upwards along her thighs. He felt his knees buckle as his hands rose up over the bulging round flesh, while his thumbs dipped into her crevice, glancing along her wiry hair and the warm, pink, wet folds in between the two plump orbs.

A thunderous desperate moan gushed out of Julia.

"Shh," he said as he undid his pants and let them drop down to the floor. "There will be no resisting arrest, young lady," he warned. " _Slow down William_ ," his own voice coached inside of his head. Forcing himself to find restraint, William knelt down behind her as he whispered, "I believe this matter warrants further investigation," He leaned in closer to her and a moan escaped his throat as he breathed in the luscious, forbidden smell of her. His hands gripped her hips and he buried his face inside of her humid, musky scent.

Julia grabbed the edge of the worktable as her womb twisted in agony, for his tongue lapped and sucked and destroyed her. She could withstand it no more. "Please William … Oh my God William," she cried out. Pulling away, and then giving in to his urge to bite her, he took a resolute hold of her round, pliable cheek with his teeth and the he softly twisted her flesh back and forth. She moaned loud and strong. He would take her now. William stood.

Anguishing with need, she provoked him, sounding out of breath and raspy, "Detective, you have a reputation for completing thorough and in depth investigations... I'm a little disappointed."

"Disappointed?! Disappointed!? Now we can't have that," he gave, lining himself up with her, driven wildly forward as his skin breached her wet perfection. He bent over her as he pushed in, squeezing into her tight, warm, delicious fruit. Julia gripped the table with all her might to cope with his invasion and her helpless capture as his hands slid under her to take her breasts, which bulged out of her skimpy dress, molding the squashy, malleable flesh, and then continuing on under her chest to reach up and grab hold of her shoulders. His biceps bulged against her ribs as he pinned her down aggressively into the table while his hot breath rattled over her ear.

The shear animalistic power of him rendered her utterly defenseless. She gasped, feeling him pull back. Anticipation tortured her. Then it came, his monstrous first thrust, timed with his pull against her shoulders, surging him deeply into her. And then again, and then again. " _Oh my God, he feels so good!"_ she thought. "Deeper William," she begged.

" _Oh I'll give you deeper_ ," he thought. His mind couldn't swirl faster. William pumped into her with all he could. He had to surge further. He had to get deeper into this delicious, delicious woman. " _Oh yes,_ " the words in his head urged him on. His breath caught as he felt it begin, the flood of ecstasy was only moments away.

William's moan wrecked her completely. Tears filled her eyes and she paused, feeling the world grow silent and tilt as the feather of a wind blew her over the edge. From her center it burst outward, hot and ecstatic to roar through every inch of her.

"Mmm," her voice melted into his ear. The delectable feeling lasted so long and William reached for more, moan after moan, delighting in finding what he stretched for. He felt her twitch under him once … and then twice more, before they both lie still and weak, bent over the table, while the whirlpool around them slowed.

Love expanded and burned in his heart; he loved this woman so. Still inside of her, he smothered her in kisses, tasting her tears. "I love you Julia. I love you so much," he said, only to kiss her some more. She wanted to be in his arms, for him to comfort her and hold her as she cried on his shoulder. She moved out from under him and they stood together, Julia wrapped in William's arms with him rocking her ever so tenderly while she cried and they recovered. After a time he told her, his voice low and intimate in her ear, "That was magnificent … You are magnificent …" then he added with an embarrassed chuckle, "That dress is magnificent." He felt the smile grow on her face against his neck right before she joined him with a giggle. He couldn't believe his heart could swell anymore, and yet, it did. Quiet settled in again before a playful smile took his face and he asked, "Doctor, do you think it is safe to seduce a man my age with such a dress? My heart raced so."

"Perhaps it is worth the risk?" she teased. Then she added, "But, as a doctor, I would recommend keeping up with the cycling," giggling some more as she squeezed him tight.

Later, as they slept, Julia stirred, reacting to her bad dream.

 _Watching from her tree, she witnessed the showdown at the lake-house replay, William flinging his stone and Connor Brogan firing his rifle. William was shot – his lifeless body tumbling down through the branches, with the cracking twigs and splashing leaves the only sounds she could hear in the dulled silence. Just before he hit the ground, thunderous lightning struck, the deafening blast, the intense flash, blowing her backwards out of her tree. The next thing she knew, she was standing on the ground. In the distance, she saw a pier. She knew to run to it. As she got closer, she saw their three children near the end. They were sobbing. "Daddy tried to save Berry Bear," Katie cried as she saw her mother running to them. She pointed over the side of the pier. Down below, floating on the water, was William's homburg, the two bullet holes rendering it less buoyant; she watched as it sank. Frantically she scanned the water for him. Pleading of her children, she screamed, "Where did he go into the water?" William Jr. answered, "Right where his hat was …" She flung off her shoes (the same ones she was wearing when she had been abducted), one of them falling over the side, and she prepared to dive in… William Jr. continued, "But Mom, it was yesterday." ! ): ): ): Her world crumbled, gravity collapsed her, and she fell to her knees, trying with all her might to suck in some air from the vacuum that was left without him. Unable to sob without air to breathe, she felt the pull – the pull to the water below. "Don't leave us Mommy!" Katie begged. Tears filled her eyes. Her children ran into her arms. Oh, how that first breath hurt – and behind it was the moan, the bellow of pain as she started to sob. Holding her children tight, she looked down to the water below, watching as her shoe bobbed on the waves once or twice before it dropped out of sight to go join his hat in the abyss._

She heard her own stressful breathing – it awakened her. With her next, deeper, breath she felt the ache of the memory of the dream. Relief flowed through her when she realized William slept right next to her. She would go downstairs; have a whiskey.

Downstairs, remaining in the dark, for it fit her mood, she checked on Moose. The puppy slept peacefully. She poured the drink and sat at the dining-room table. Grateful for the warm flow she felt as the whiskey slid down her throat and over her heart, she noticed that it was very dark. It seemed a storm was brewing, the gusty wind randomly battering the glass doors to the patio. Taking a deep breath, she noticed the pleasant scent of the roses. " _All the colors_ ," she thought, and she smiled with the memory of her husband turning her around to see the rainbow, the rainbow that he had said reminded him somehow of their love. She remembered reaching across the worktable for the red one, amazed at her body's reaction as she felt her womb tighten, accompanied by that lovely floaty feeling she gets in her head when they are close, and soaring in their love.

" _He used blue salvias for the blue_ ," she thought. Then, as clear as day, she remembered standing with him in his office, the first time she'd lost him, when he was courting Mrs. Jones, nearly two decades ago. She had said it aloud, the meaning of the flower, "I think of you." William had thought she was saying it about him. She knew, now, that the look he gave her was hope, but at the time she had read it as concern – concern that she was not yet over him. So many miscommunications, so much struggle, some of it avoidable if they could only learn to move out of their heads. Reflecting on the words, "I think of you," she realized that not a day had gone by that she did not think of William since the day she had met him. It was truly powerful, their love.

The purple roses took center stage in her mind. In William's poem, they connected to the strength of her courage, the strength of her love for him, and the miracle of the force of their love. Her mind's eye saw the sight of William, down in water, floating face down, and the feeling of the gravity shift as she stepped up on the railing and dove over the side of the pier. So many times she has almost lost him…

" _It was a single yellow rose_ ," she remembered, a single yellow rose he had left with the note. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only a few years. He had been abducted, taken to a far-off desert isle to be Eva Pearce's lover. He was missing for over a month. If not for the children, she was certain she would not have survived the pain of having lost him. Julia sighed remembering the dramatic scenes – first, of her falling completely apart when she learned that Eloise had washed William's pajamas, and she would no longer have them to surround her and comfort her with her sweet memories stimulated by his scent, and then later, of their heart-wrenching fight as William struggled against his inability to accept her distancing from him after his return. Pushed to explain, she had told him she regretted letting herself fall so in love with him, for now she knew she could not survive the loss of him. She told him about the agony she had felt when his pajamas had been washed, and she lost what seemed like her only way to still be with him. Frustration had driven him to yell at her as he ripped off his pajamas and threw them at her. She was surprised of the intensity of the ache she still felt with the memory, the agonizing feeling causing her mind to slip back to the dream she had just had.

Trying to move past the pain, she stood and found a yellow rose in the bouquet. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and yet the flower had lost much of its allure without the luminous yellow glow. _"I was, 'seeing only the_ _ **impermanenc**_ _e of the rose,' he had written,_ " she reminded herself of the time, of the note, he had written, the note that had drawn her out of her trance – freed her of her dysfunctional coping, seeing _**only**_ his impending death, while blocking out the astounding beauty of his being alive and passionately in love with her.

Julia walked to the glass doors and, holding the yellow rose, looked out on their patio. In her mind's eye she re-played the memory of when they made love there just a couple of nights ago. Far off, there was a rumble of thunder … She had not seen the flash of light. She sensed it, the charge in the air. She would go wake him – they would make love.

He had been behind her for a few moments, enjoying the perspective, the distance, feeling his love for her blossom, his desire for her build, and the tension between them amplify as he resisted that awesome pull to her.

This time the distant light flickered, stimulating their eyes … They each waited, holding their breath so as not to miss it, for the thunder that would come. It was louder; the storm was coming closer. Perhaps she saw his reflection, even in this darkness, in the glass, or maybe he took a deep breath before he spoke, but somehow, she felt him there.

"It seems we will have to ride out another storm together," his voice suggested from behind her.

She dropped her chin, her head had already started to spin, her womb warmed, and she listened, overjoyed for he was coming closer. Soon, she would hear his breath, feel his touch, breath in his scent … soon.

He came to stand next to her, sharing her view. Having noticed the glass of whiskey, he asked, "Bad dream?"

Julia took a deep breath and replied, "I was struggling with your impermanence again."

A mischievous grin curved on his lips and he said jokingly, as he started to unbutton his pajama top, "So you will be needing these then … I've only been wearing them for a short time, so they may not quite have the scent you need to … um, _**mourn**_ me."

She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder with the rose. The warmth of his laugh soared her spirit, and then he took her in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. Oh, he tasted so good, and she so loved the feeling of his breath sliding over her face, and oh, how her insides twisted and flamed with desire for him. She broke off the kiss and told him that she had finally read his love-poem, about the rainbow and their love.

"Did you like it?" he asked.

"Yes, it was truly lovely, William," she answered, getting a little stuck in his eyes as the far-off lightning quivered the room. "The yellow one," she said, looking down at the rose in her hand, "was about one losing hope and the other restoring it, hmm? The color we used for our wedding too... Do you think it is the strongest aspect of our love – giving each other hope?"

William answered, "No, I think each aspect is equally strong," but then he found her ear and whispered, "Although the red one seems to be particularly strong right now, with you looking so beautiful every time that lightning shimmers." She slid her arms around his neck and said, "Actually William, I believe I do want those pajamas…" And she kissed his neck and then nibbled his earlobe. So very close to his ear she said, "But not because I want the pajamas. No, no, it is the man inside of them that I want." Their kiss was deep, strong and wild.

They made love on the dining room table – the same one on which William Jr. had been born eight years ago. William's amazing self-control, his abilities to make observations and use them to see what is happening, predict what could happen, and, not just knowing Julia as well as he did, but also knowing the physical world as well, he timed it all perfectly, so that just as the lightning flash shared its space with the thunder, he and his wife fell over the edge of elation together. Then, as William and Julia lie together, their hearts and breathing slowing, gradually returning to normal, the storm moved on, the flashes dimming, the thunder muffling, the rain calming off into a drizzle. Julia asked, softly into the dark night, "William, where were we in your dream, when we made love while I had on the spicy, tattered dress?"

William reluctantly decided it was safe to tell her. After all, they would never be able to actually make love in the coatroom at the Club as they had had their membership revoked, and they were not sufficiently familiar with any other location to ever easily find themselves alone in their coatroom. He pushed himself to be brave and replied, "Um, we were in the coatroom – at the Club."

William's pupils grew large with worry as he watched a devilish grin sprout on his wife's face. "Oh William!" she declared, "That's wonderful… I forgot to tell you. Mr. Chamberlin called. The Club Committee decided to reinstate our membership – free of charge for the rest of the year. It seems they were impressed with all the newspaper stories of our heroic efforts in re-capturing so many dangerous prisoners. " She gave him a big, excited squeeze and whispered, completely aware of the uneasiness it would evoke in him, "That is surely a dream we will have to make come true."

William swallowed and made an effort to accept his fate. "What had she called it so many years ago, as she flung arrows across a field and suggested they reside together unwed? – **reveling in the outrageousness?!"** he thought. Surely this woman would be the death of him, but there was one thing for sure, he would die a happy man.

William's love-poem had been left unguarded, open for all the world – well at least Eloise, to see. It rested, temptingly available, on Julia's nightstand. Later that afternoon Eloise did not resist the temptation to read it. She walked away with a smile. I hope you will too:

 **Sometimes, when the density of our lives thickens with the stresses of the world around us and building pressures coming from both below and above, we can see it as it bends through the prism of our coping – the various aspects of our love.**

 **Like the parallel colors of a rainbow curved from the Sun's rays only visible in the clearing of a storm's wind and its clouds and its rain, we know that this love shared between us must coexist with life's suffering – we must love in the presence of pain.**

 **Merely a mystery of perception, for it is always there – our love, like the Sun's light, but only when moved through a prism, does each distinct aspect, each unique color, become crystal clear, and ignite. Stretched to their limits, the pieces divide and our love's components are seen, our love's soul lucidly appears, no longer hidden, but now, out in plain sight:**

 **The power of violet, and in order to save me – you find your courage, you dive off a pier;**

 **The loyalty of blue, and I break the rules – your freedom from incarceration I commandeer;**

 **The growth of green, we turn to our family – trust another saving our children we hold so dear;**

 **The sunniness of yellow, we build-up our hope – when one of us is down the other will cheer;**

 **The aspiration of orange, we think of solutions – jointly willing destiny's path to veer;**

 **The passion of red, its heat, its need, pulls us – you and I, romantically near.**

 **Without thunderstorms there can be no rainbow. So let's stop and smell the roses, my love, and indulge in the chocolates too. We've weathered the storms and the mayhem, and all it really cost us was a beloved hat – and Cinderella's shoe.**


End file.
